New Orleans Wins Super Bowl! Bourbon Street Awash in Blood and Vomit
NEW ORLEANS, LA – The New Orleans Saints beat the Indianapolis Colts yesterday in Miami to become the Super Bowl Champions of the National Football League. When the game ended, patrons at French Quarter bars on Bourbon Street celebrated by gathering on the street. As thousands of people danced and clapped their hands, others shot each other with automatic weapons. Gunfire crackled in the air like fireworks as celebrants vomited and high-fived, some scrambling drunkenly to the aid of friends and strangers who’d just been shot or stabbed.
“We’ve waited so long for something like this! Who Dat!!” exclaimed a jubilant Saints fan as he gulped his beer. “I just watched a man shoot another man in the head! God I love New Orleans!” He ordered another beer and disappeared into the burgeoning Bourbon Street crowd.
Minutes after the Saints won the Super Bowl, New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin announced that he was lifting all laws pertaining to acts of violence and property destruction for twenty four hours.
“New Orleans has just won the Super Bowl!” he yelled from behind a make-shift podium set up in his front yard. “I know there are going to be a lot of you pulling out your guns, showering your neighborhoods in bullets. Now, I don’t want to hinder celebration. I do not want to stifle healthy psychological release. So I am suspending all laws, minus voter fraud and identity theft, for twenty four hours!” 
The New Orleans Saints had never been to the Super Bowl. The city that was decimated by Hurricane Katrina in 2005 has been limping along, just trying to keep its battered framework from completely collapsing. As the NFL season progressed, New Orleanians sat on bar stools with crossed fingers, hoping their team might be the light at the end of a very long blood stained tunnel. As the team’s victories led them to the ultimate test, Super Bowl XLIV against the mighty Colts, the broken and dysfunctional Crescent City held its breath. A victory in the Super Bowl would give them the boost they’ve needed for so many years. A boost that could give them anywhere from three to eleven days of raucous self-worth that might see them through another thirty or forty years of unremitting misery.
“Now that we’ve won the Super Bowl, I don’t want to live anymore!” cried Lucifer Reed, of Metairie, LA. “Hell, it ain’t going to get any better than this. Ever!” He took a giant gulp of his beer and puffed on his cigarette. “I know when I’m on the mountain top, and there ain’t nowhere to go from here. If I get shot tonight, what do I care! We won the Super Bowl!” He raised his pint glass in the air. “Who Dat?!” Several people toasted Lucifer in return. 
The Daily Rash spoke with Brittany and Austin Craddock who were visiting the city from San Jose.
“We just saw several people being pistol whipped over on St. Louis street,” laughed Austin. “Where else can you go where you can watch a strip show, drink toxic amounts of alcohol and watch a woman get gang raped, all in a three or four block radius?”
“And it’s all legal!” exclaimed Brittany, as she purchased shots of Jagermeister.
“We try to get down here every five years or so,” Austin said, as Brittany handed him his shot glass. “We just love it here. Anything goes in N’awlins!”
A blood spattered man came running through the crowd. The revelers erupted with shrieks of horror intermixed with howls of elation and celebratory screams. Brittany and Austin Craddock raised their glasses, “Who Dat!” they barked, and gulped their drinks. They slammed the glasses on the bar and high-fived.
