12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS (CAJUN STYLE)
Day 1: Dear Boudreaux, Thanks for de bird in de Pear tree. I fix it las'
night with dirty rice. I doan tink de pear tree will grow in deswamp, so I
swap it for a Satsuma.
Day 2: Dear Boudreaux, You letter say you sent two turtle doves, but all I
got was two scrawny pigeons. Anyway, I mixed dem with andouille an made some
gumbo out of dem.
Day 3: Dear Boudreaux, Why doan you sent some crawfish? I'm tired of eating
dem darn birds. I gave two of dose prissy French chickens to Marie Trahan
over at Grans Bayou an fed the tird one to my dog Phideaux. Marie needed
some sparing partners for her fighting rooster.
Day 4: Dear Boudreaux, Mon Dieux! I told you no more friggin birds. Deez
four, what you call dem "calling birds" were so noisy you could hear dem all
de way to Napoleonville. I used dere necks for my crab traps, an fed de rest
of dem to de gators.
Day 5: Dear Boudreaux, You finally sen' somethin useful. I like dem golden
rings, me. I hocked dem at da pawn shop in Thibodeaux and got enuf money to
fix da shaft on my shrimp boat an buy a round for da boys at de Raisin' Cane
Lounge. Merci Beaucoup!
Day 6: Dear Boudreaux, Couchon! Back to da birds, you coonass turkey! Poor
egg suckin' Phideaux is scared to death at dem six gaeases. He tried to eat
dems eggs and dey peck de heck out ah his snout. Dey good at eating
cockroaches, though. I may stuff one of dem wit erster dressing on Christmas
day.
Day 7: Dear Boudreaux, I'm gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you.
Thibeau, da mailman, is ready to kill ya. The merde from all dem birds is
stinkin' up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat stuff and sue
him good. I let those seven swans loose to swim on de bayou and some duck
hunters from Mississippi blasted dem out of de water. Talk to you tomorrow.
Day 8: Dear Boudreaux, poor ole Thibeau, he had to make tree trips on his
mailboat to deliver dem 8 maids a milkin and their cows. One of dem cows got
spooked by da alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem
shiftless maids, me no. I tolt dem to get to work guttin fish and sweepinq
the shack but dey say it wasn't in dair contract. Dey probably think dey too
good ta skin nutrias I caught las night.
Day 9: Dear Boudreaux, What you trying to do huh? Thibeau had to borrow the
Lutcher ferry to carry dem jumpin twits you call Lords-a-Leaping across the
bayou. As soon as dey gots here dey wanted a tea break with crumpets. I doan
know what dat means but I says, *Well La Di Da. You get Chicory coffee or
nuttin. * Mon Dieu, Emile. What I'm gonna feed all dese bozos? Dey too
snooty for fried nutria, and de cows done eat my turnip greens.
Day 10: Dear Boudreaux, You got to be outs you mind! If de mailman don't
kill you, I will fo sure. Today he deliver 10 half nikid floozies from
Bourbon Street. Dey said dey be Ladies Dancin but dey doan act like ladies
in front of dose Limey twits. Dey almos left after one of dem got bit by a
water moccasin over by da out-house. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute
le monde an had to get toilet paper. The Sears catalog wasn't good enuf fer
dose hoity toity Lords' royal behin.
Day 11: Dear Boudreaux, where y'at? Cheerio an pip pip. Your 11 pipers
piping arrives today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off
de boat. We fixed snuffed goose and beef jambalaya, finished da whiskey and
we having a fais-do-do. Da new mailman he drink a bottle of Jack Daniel an
he having a good time yeah dancing with de floozies. Thibeau he jump off de
Sunshine Bridge yesterday, screaming your name. If you get a mysterious,
ticking package in de mail, doan open it.
Day 12: Dear Boudreaux, I sorry to tell ya but I not your true love anymore,
no. After da fais-do-do, I spent de night with Jacque, de head piper. We
decide to open a restaurant and gentleman's club on de bayou. The floozies,
pardon me, Ladies dancing can make $20 for a table dance, and de Lords can
be waiters an valet park de boats. Since de maids doan have no more cows ta
milk, I trained dem ta set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, an run my
shrimping business. We will probably gross a million clams nex year.
W H Y C O P S H A T E Y O U <<<<&l <
-if you have to ask get out of the way-
Have you ever been stopped by a traffic cop and, while he was
writing a ticket or giving you a warning, you got the feeling that
he would just love to yank you out of the car, right through the
window, and smash your face into the front fender?...
