[Sca-cooks] CAJUN NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

ranvaig at columbus.rr.com ranvaig at columbus.rr.com
Tue Dec 25 05:01:44 PST 2007


Cajun 12 Days 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 coonass 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 damm  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 crap 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 jumbalaya, finished da whiskey,and we're having a  fais-do-do.  Da' new mailman drank a bottle ofJack 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 spent 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 for a  table dance, 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.
 

Merry Christmas!!
Ranvaig



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