somewhere in Bayou Country...
Day 1: Dear Boudreaux, you one sweet lover done say you gonna sin
little me one present all twelve days of Crissmus. I git so excited I
no take my shrimp boat out fishin, eh? 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 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 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. 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 tol 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 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 tink 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 de 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. De 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 de 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 restaurant and gentleman's club on de
bayou. Dem ladies can learn lap dancing and make $20 ever guy come
in. De Lords we stop leapin and make waiters an valet park de boats.
Since de maids doan have no more cows ta milk, I goin train dem set
my crab traps, watch my trotlines, an run my shrimpin business. We
gonna gross a million clams next year .
