We're crossing Rampart Street in New Orleans on our way to the old cemetery when The Not Nice Kid (who SO earned her name last week) looks around and asks, "So? Where are all the dead skunks and opossoms?"
(We drive from a very rural area into a not-quite-so-rural area every morning, on a four-lane highway. There are a LOT of dead animals on the side of the road in rural Alabama.)
The story sort of lost its punch when we stumbled over that DEAD RAT on the trolley tracks.