Hey Boudreaux, Thibeau & J.D.
It wouldn't be Christmas without a little Cajun influence.
Larry
>
>12 Days of Cajun Christmas
>
>
>Day 1 :. Dear Boudreaux, Thanks for de bird in de pear tree. I fix it
>lasnight with dirty rice. I doan tink de pear tree will grow in de swamp,
>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 andouile an made some
>gumbo out of dem.
>
>Day 3 : Dear Boudreaux, way doan you sent some crawfish? Im tired of
>eating dem darn birds. I gave two of dose prissy French chickens to Marie
>Trahan over at Gras Bayou an fed the tird one to my dog Phideaux. Marie
>needed some sparring partners for her fighting rooster.
>
>Day 4 : Dear Boudreaux, Mon Dieux! I tol you no more friggin birds! Deez
>four, what you call them calling birds were so noisy you could hear them
>all de way to Napoleonville. I used dere necks for my crab traps an fed the
>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 go enuf money to
>fix da shaft on my shrimp boat an buy a round for da boys a de RaisinCane
>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 eatin
>cockroaches, though. I may stuff one of dem wit erster dressing on Chrismas
>Day.
>
>Day 7 : Dear Boudreaux, Im 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 an almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem
>siftless maids, me no. I tot dem to get to work guttin fish and sweeping
>the shack but dey say it wasnt in dair contract. Dey probably think de too
>good ta skin nutrias I caught las night.
>
>Day 9 : Dear Boudreaux, what you trying to do huh? Thibeau had to borrow
>the Luther 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
>Chickory coffee or nutin. Mon Dieu, Emile, what am I gonna feed all dese
>bozos? Dey too snotty for fried nutria, an de cows done eat my turnip
>greens.
>
>Day 10 : Dear Boudreaux, You got to be outs of you mind! If de mailman
>dont 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 wasnt good
>enuf for dose hoity toity Lords royal behin.
>
>Day 11: Dear Boudreaux, where yat? Cherrio and pip pip. Your 11 pipers
>piping arrives today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off
>de boat. We fixed stuffed goose and beef jambalaya, finished da whiskey
>and
>we having a fais-do-d0! 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 faisdo-do, I spnet de night with Jacque, de head
>piper. We decide to open a restaurant and gentlemens club on de bayou. The
>floozies, pardon me, Ladies dancing can make $20.00 for a table dance, an
>de
>Lords can be waiters an valet park de boats. Since de maids doan have no
>more cows ta milk, I trained dem to set my crab traps, watch my trotlines,
>an run my sriping business. We will probably gross a million clams nex
>year.
>
>
>
>
>
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