[CH] Cajun Christams
Harold James (mdspice@hotmail.com)
Wed, 08 Dec 2004 16:26:21 -0500
Harold’s Cajun Christmas
Day - 1
Dear Boudreaux,
Tanks for da bird in da Pear tree. I fix it las' night with dirty rice. I
doan tink da pear tree will grow in da swamp, so I swap it for a Satsuma.
Day - 2
Dear Boudreaux,
Your letter say you sent two turtle doves, but all I got was two scrawny
pigeon. Anyway, I mix dem with andouille (Cajun sausage) confederate hell
fire and some orka made some gumbo out of dem.
Day - 3
Dear Boudreaux,
Why doan you sent some crawfish. I tired of eating dem damn birds. I gave
two of dose prissy French chickens to Marie Trahan over at Grans Bayou and
fed da tird one to my dog, Phideaux. Marie needed some sparring partners for
her fighting rooster.
Day - 4
Dear Boudreaux,
Mon Dieux! (My God) I tole you no more friggin birds. Deez four, what you
call dem, "calling birds" was so noisy you could hear dem all da way to
Napoleonville. I used dere necks for my crab traps, and fed da rest of dem
to da gators.
Day - 5
Dear Boudreaux,
You finally sent someting 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 and buy a round for da boys at da Raisin' Cane Lounge. Merci
Beaucoup! (Thanks Much)
Day - 6
Dear Boudreaux,
Couchon! (Pig!) Back to da birds, you coonass turkey! Poor egg suckin'
Phideaux is scared to death at dem six geeses. He tried to eat dems eggs and
dey peck da heck out ah his snout. Dey good at eating cockroaches, dough. I
may stuff one of dem wit erster dressing on Christmas day.
Day - 7
Dear Boudreaux,
I gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you. T' fi boutan! (Kiss my
ass!) Thibeau, da mailman, is ready to kill you dead. Da merde (crap) from
all dem birds is stinkin' up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on
dat stuff and sue him good. I let dose seven swans loose to swim on da bayou
and some duck hunters from Mississippi blasted dem out of da water. Talk at
you tomorrow.
Day - 8
Dear Boudreaux,
Poor ole Thibeau had to make tree trips on his mailboat to deliver dem 8
maids a milkin and dere cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da gators and
almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me no. I tolt
dem to get to work guttin fish and sweeping the shack but dey say it was no
in dere contract. Dey probably tink dey to good ta skin da nutrias (Bayou
Rat) I caught las night too.
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 'cross the bayou. As soon as dey
gots here dey wanted a tea break wit crumpets. I doan know what dat means
but I says, "Well La Di Da. You get Chic'ry coffee or nuttin." Mon Dieu,
Emile. What I'm gonna feed all dese bozos? Dey too snooty for fried nutria,
and da cows ate my turnip greens.
Day - 10
Dear Boudreaux,
You got to be out of your mind! If da mailman don't kill you, I will for
sure. Today he delivered 10 half nakid floozies from Bourbon Street. Dey
said dey be "Ladies Dancin" but dey doan act like ladies in front of dem
Limey twits. Dey almost left after one of dem got bit by a water moccasin
over by my out-house. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde
(everybody) and get toilet paper. Da Sears catalog was no good enuf for dose
hoity-toity lord's royal behinds.
Day - 11
Dear Boudreaux,
Where Y'at. Cheerio and pip pip. Your 11 pipers piping arrive today from da
House of Blues, second lining as dey got off da boat. We fix snuffed goose
and beef jambalaya, finished da whiskey and we be having a fais-do-do
(Dance). Da new mailman drank a bottle of Jack Daniels and he having a good
time dancing with da floozies. Da old mailman jumped off of da Sunshine
Bridge yesterday, screaming your name. If you get a mysterious, ticking
package in da mail, doan open it.
Day - 12
Dear Boudreaux,
I sorry to tell you but I am not your true love no more. After da
fais-do-do, I spent da night with Jacques, da head piper. We decided to open
a restaurant and gentleman's club on da bayou. Da floozies, pardon me,
"ladies dancing", can make $20 for a table dance, and da lords can be
waiters and valet park da boats. Since da maids have no more cows to milk, I
trained dem to set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, and run my shrimping
business. We be probably grossing a million dollars next year finis Joyeaux
Noel--Merry Christmas. May Papa Noel follow the bonfires and find your homes
on Christmas Eve!
Dear Boudreaux, after this in need some of that butt Paste
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Mason Dixon Spice
www.mdspice.com
Eat It!!! Every Day!!!