[StBernard] CAJUN TWELVE THANK-YOU NOTES OF CHRISTMAS

Westley Annis Westley at da-parish.com
Wed Dec 9 09:00:06 EST 2009


CAJUN TWELVE THANK-YOU NOTES OF CHRISTMAS

Day 1
Dear Emile,
Thanks for da bird in the Pear tree. I fixed it las night with dirty rice
an' it was delicious. I doan tink the Pear tree would grow in de swamp, so I
swapped it for a Satsuma.

Day 2
Dear Emile,
Your letter said you sent 2 turtle dove, but all I got was 2 scrawny pigeon.
Anyway, I mixed them with andouille and made some gumbo out of dem.

Day 3
Dear Emile,
Why doan you sen me some crawfish? I'm tired of eating dem darned bird. I
gave two of those prissy French chicken to Mrs. Fontenot over at Grand
Chenier, and fed the tird one to my dog, Phideaux. Mrs. Fontenot needed some
sparring partners for her fighting rooster.

Day 4
Dear Emile,
Mon Dieux! I tole you no more of dem bird. Deez four, what you call "calling
bird" wuz so noisy you could hear dem all da' way to Lafayette. I used they
necks for my crab traps, and fed the rest of dem to the gators.

Day 5
Dear Emile,
You finally sent something useful. I liked dem golden rings, me. I hocked
dem at da' pawn shop in Sulphur and got enough money to fix the shaft on my
shrimp boat, and to buy a round for da boys at the Raisin' Cane Lounge.
Merci Beaucoup!

Day 6
Dear Emile,
Couchon! Back to da birds, you big dumb turkey! Poor egg sucking Phideaux is
scared to death ah dem six goose. He try to eat they eggs and they pecked
the heck out ah his snout. Dem goose are dang good at eating cockroach
around da' house, though. I may stuff one ah dem goose with erster dressing
to serve him on Christmas Day.

Day 7
Dear Emile,
I'm gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you. Ole Boudreaux, da
mailman, is ready to kill you, too. The poop from all dem bird is stinkin up
his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat stuff and gonna sue him. I
let dem seven swan loose to swim on da bayou and some stupid duck hunter
from Mississippi done blasted dem out da water. Talk to you tomorrow.

Day 8
Dear Emile,
Poor ole Boudreaux had to make 3 trips on his mailboat to deliver dem 8
maids-a-milking & der cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da alligators and
almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me. I told dem
to get to work gutting fish and sweeping my shack--but dey say it wasn't in
their contract. They probably tink they too good to skin all dem nutria I
caught las night.

Day 9
Dear Emile,
What you trying to do? Boudreaux had to borrow da Cameron Ferry to carry
these jumping twits you call lords-a-leaping across da bayou. As soon as dey
got here dey wanted a tea break and crumpets. I doan know what dat means but
I says, "Well la di da. You get Chicory coffee or nuthin." Mon Dieux, Emile,
what I'm gonna feed all these bozos? They too snooty for fried nutria, and
da cow ate up all my turnip green.

Day 10
Dear Emile,
You got to be out of you mind. If da mailman don't kill you, I will. Today
he deliver 10 half nekkid floozies from Bourbon Street. Dey said they be
"ladies dancing" but they doan act like ladies in front of dem Limey sailing
boys. Dey almost left after one of them 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 rolls. The Sears catalog wasn't good enough for dem
hoity toity lords. Talk at you tomorrow.

Day 11
Dear Emile,
Where Y'at? Cherio and pip pip. You 11 Pipers Piping arrived today from the
House of Blues, second lining as dey got off da boat. We fixed stuffed goose
and beef jambalaya, finished da whiskey, and we're having a fais-do-do. Da'
new mailman drank a bottle of Jack Daniel, and he's having a good old time
dancing with the floozies. Da' old mailman done jump off the Moss Bluff
Bridge yesterday, screaming you name. If you happen to get a
mysterious-looking, ticking package in da mail, don't open it.

Day 12
Dear Emile,
Me I'm sorry to tell you--but I am not your true love anymore. After the
fais-do-do, I talked all da night with Jacque, the head piper. We decide to
open a restaurant and gentlemen's club on the bayou. The floozies--pardon
me--ladies dancing can make $20 un hour for dancin', and the lords can be
the 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'll probably gross a million dollars next year.

Joyeaux Noel et Bonne Annee!







More information about the StBernard mailing list