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Post by Paws on Oct 15, 2006 3:24:34 GMT 12.75
Wait! Before you read this you got to download this tune first! (click on Boudreaux) Boudreaux & Band-Aids (that's pronounced BOO-dro, for y'all not familiar with Louisiana) Boudreaux staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Thibodeaux. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Clotile. (klow-teal) He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step. As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump. A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful. Managing not to yell, Boudreaux sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding. He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood. He then hid the now almost empty box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed. In the morning, Boudreaux woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Clotile staring at him from across the room. She said, "You were drunk again last night weren't you Boudreaux?" Boudreaux said, "Mon cher, why you say such a mean ting?" "Well," Clotile said, "it could be the open front door, it could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly...... it's all those Band-Aids stuck on the downstairs mirror. Stolen from Hawgn man on Furandfeathersrus.com
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Post by Brikatw on Oct 15, 2006 3:45:28 GMT 12.75
HEY!!!!! I resemble those remarks......maybe ;D
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Post by Paws on Oct 15, 2006 4:00:48 GMT 12.75
HEY!!!!! I resemble those remarks......maybe ;D I added a tune you'll like! I read that and couldn't quit laughing. I could in my mind's eye see Justin Wilson stirring a pot of gumbo and telling this story right along. All y'all ought share your Boudreaux and Clotile stories right here now!
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Post by Toby Benoit on Oct 15, 2006 10:35:25 GMT 12.75
Father Dabria, the parish priest, came strolling up to the doorstep of Clotile and her cajun husband Boudreaux and knocked on the door.
They came to the door together and invited him in, but he said, "Thankyou, but no. I have to be going along, you see I'm leaving the parish and I wanted to visit all of my parishoners before I leave."
"Where you going?" Boudreaux asked him.
"I am transferring to a new church in New York City, where they gonna make me a bishop, but before I arrive I'll be taking me a vacation."
"Where you gonna go?" Clotile asked.
"I've always wanted to go to Rome and see the Vatican City. All of the Holy landmarks and history, and if I'm lucky, I might catch a glimpse of the Pope. While there, I'd like to light a prayer candle for you. Is there anything you'd like me to pray for on your behalf?" The priest asked?
"Well," Clotile answered, "Me and my man Boudreaux ain't never had no babies and maybe, could you pray that we can have us a child?"
"God Bless You, I will light a candle and pray for a child."
They bid the priest farewell and he headed off toward their neighbors.
Ten years go by and the priest, now a bishop, is traveling through the old parish and stops by to see his old friends Clotile and Boudreaux and knocks on the door.
Clotile opens the door and come out all weary looking, with kids running all around the house, babies crying, TV blaring, and supper burning on the stove.
"That you father?" Clotile asked in surprise.
"It is child. I must say, a lot has changed. You've a rather large family!"
"Yes father, we done had fifteen kids since you left the parish. I been pregnant every year you been gone and done had me a baby each time and five times they was twins!"
"Such a wonderful thing," The Bishop excited, "I must congratulate Boudreaux on such a large family, is he home?"
"Naw, you missed him. He's on his way to Rome," Clotile told him.
"Rome? Whatever could he be doing in Rome?" he asked.
"When you left us, remember you promised to light a candle for us in Rome?"
"Yes," replied the Bishop.
"Well, he's on his way to blow that sumbitch out!"
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Post by Paws on Oct 15, 2006 13:10:16 GMT 12.75
Yeeeeehawwww! Dat sure was a good story bout dem red neck swamp runners I tell da trut! Den dere was dat time when Budreaux took Clotile way up North right round Shreveport cause he had to go up dere to what da seat of da county and sign on some papers for to get dat zemption from da homestead on da tax on his propity. Dat Boudreax ride in dat big old hound double decked dog bus all da way and almost said nary one word! Clotile say, Boudreaux why you be so quiet? Boudreax say, Clotile I see more wonderments den I even knowed der was in dis world! Clotile say, why don't we den spend some time an look round a little bit fore we go back home? Boudreaux say, awright den, we can do dat so dey did. When dey got dem paperworks signed and rolled up so dey walked down da sidewalk an see dis big tall building what go clean up to da sky til it disappear right at da tip top. Clotile say let us go in der Boudreaux. So dey did. On da inside right on da other side of da door is a food court with all kinds of wonderment smells and sounds all around. Boudreaux was so stunned hu just sit right down at a table and stared at everything. You hungry man say Clotile? I am he said! So she walk off to go find some food to eat for dem both while Boudreaux sit dere and wait. There in front across the mall were the elevators which Boudreaux had never seen before. Several he watched as the doors would open and people would get in and the doors would close and the lights on top would count up and stop. Then the lights would count down to L and the doors open and people would get off. He was watching the first one closest to the left when he saw this big fat old ugly girl get on, the doors closed the lights counted up to 20 stopped counted down to L the doors opened and this pretty sexy girl got off. Then this old fat bald man got on and the doors closed and the lights counted up to 20 and stopped then counted down to L and the doors opened and this handsome young man strolled out. Then he watched this old couple carying grocery bags get on the doors close count to twenty stop and count down to L and doors open and a lovely young couple carrying grocery bags walked off. Just then Clotile returned with two bowls of gumbo some fried up chicken and two great big old Coke A Colas! She say to Boudreaux what you do while I get this food? Boudreaux say well Clotile I can not be for sure what you call it but you can bet dat when we et dis food up we gonna git over dere in dat box and count to twenty I tell you fo true!
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Post by Paws on Oct 16, 2006 4:58:44 GMT 12.75
Boudreaux and Clotile one wet and clammy evenin' thought they might walk to the Lazy Shrimp Road House bout' six mile from dere place right up da road and get theyselves maybe a little gin just to warm up themselves some. So they decide dat's what thy gonna did and that's just perzactly what the went to do too. So dey dress up in dem warm coat and head out and it only take dem about a half and a hour to make it to da place where dey gonna git dat gin. Pretty nice and cozy in dere wit de pot belly stove amost cherry red from da fire what was on da inside and dey both say howdy to everybody and sit right down dere and order up some gin hot in a cup with some brown sugar and some butter meltin' on da top. Whoooo dat taste good say Beaudreaux! And Clotile smack her lip on dat cup and den on da upper lip too! Dey sit der sippin' one, two, tree, fo adem drinks afore dey decide dat was enough now and time to go home. Up dey git and out dey go after tellin' all dere bye bye now. Clotile say to Boudreaux I feel kind of sleepy now and real nice and warm so maybe we take da short cut tru da cemetary back home? OK den we do dat only fo mile home dat way. So off dey go toward da cemetary and pretty soon dey hear dis voice say real low. "Hep me hep me I'm cold! And da further on dey walk the louder dat voice get! Hep me hep me I'm so cold! On dye walk. HEP ME HEP ME I'M COLD!" So Boudreax say to Clotile Honey Sweetheart what am da lite of my life I'm gonna walk on ahead and see what dat is so you just wait right here . Off he go until he come on this grave where the dirt was piled up all to one side and dat voice was comin out from dat open grave. HEP ME I'M SO COLD! Budreaux look in dat grave and dere was a man laying der on his back and hollerin' dat out and just shakin and shiverin' all over! He look at dat man right in da eye dere in dat bright moon light and say right to his face. " Of course you cold, you done trowed all da dirt off'n yo'self!"
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Post by Toby Benoit on Oct 16, 2006 8:29:58 GMT 12.75
Boudreaux had a cousin name of John Robicheaux, dat everbody aroun' just called da man Roby. Ol' Roby, he was da sheriff in one of dem small parishes down in da delta. One day he was sitting on da stoll what he had put outside da door of the shriff's office and beside him dis ol' lazy dog was stretched out on da ground. Here comes one a dem big ol' black Caddylacks come tearin' down da street and pulls up short right dar in fron of Roby and him still settin' thar on that stool. Out of dat big caddylack comes out dis ol' Yankee type wearing one of them pin stripe suits and his britches so tight that they picked him up high in da back when he try to walk. He walks over toward Roby and asks, "You wouldn't happen to be from around here would you?" "Shore," Roby Says, "I been raised up here all me life." "In that case," says the Yankee, "Perhaps you would tell me how to find the newspaper office?" "Shore, dat ain' no trouble dat. You jus..." and Roby gives the man his directions. "Thank you very much," says the Yankee, "Now that is a handsome looking dog. Is he pedigreed?" "Naw, he's mostly Lab, I reckon." "Well, sheriff, does your dog bite?" "Naw," says Roby, "my dog don' bite, I won't own a dog that'll bite." With that the Yankee reaches toward the dog to pet him and the dog jumps up and tries to chew the man's arm off! Jumping back away from the dog and holding his chewed up hand the Yankee hollers at Roby, "You said your dog wouldn't bite me!" "Dat's right I did," answers Roby, still sittin on top of that stool, "but dat ain't my dog!"
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Post by Brikatw on Oct 16, 2006 11:13:55 GMT 12.75
Hea be a true juan "bout 2 ol' boys named Brian an Bill. You see, Brian and Bill dey work in a place fer da US Gument and had dun figured out how ta sneak off a do some fishin' everyday around lunch time. Dey's would jump in da truck, roll on down to da creak an git in da bote and fish fer about 2 or 3 hours, den go back to work for an hour or so before goin' home at 4 wid the fish in da cooler. Well, one day dis ol'boy figures he gonna ketch Ol' Brian and Bill. So he goes and gets dis big ol' Preacher Freddie kinda bass boat and follows Brian and Bill to da creek. Dem boys is goin down da creek ketchin' catfish, bassfish and even whitePerchfish and dat ol'boy is followin dem along. They go hea he go hea, dey go daya, he go daya. EVERYTIME dey git a good bite agoin' dat boy kum up and skweez dem out. So dey git an idea to run fast down da creek cause dat big ol boat won't fit dem little places. OFF dey go and dat ol' boy stayed right wid dem. Dey going down dat 10 ft wide creek at 30 mile an our and dat ol' boy he keepin' up. Dat when Brian see dat hornets nest hanging from da tree over da creek. He took da paddle and whacked dat hornets nest tryin' to stir dem up. He done hit so hard it come loose and land in dat fish hole steelin Ol' Boys big Fancy Preacher Freddie Boat. Dat ol' Boy he musta forget he was drivin' dat boat because he un-assed dat boat at tirty miles an hour in da creek. Dat boat it don no da creek and drive right up on a cypress stump and knock a big hole in da bottom and knock da motor right off. Ol' Brian and Bill, dey turn around and go real fast past dat ol' Boy and his sunk boat wid da hornets nest and mad hornets. Next time dat ol' Boy axes Brian and Bill where dey goin, dey say fishin' and he RUN de udder way. I bets next time he rent a boat, he get de insurince....
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Post by Paws on Oct 19, 2006 7:28:05 GMT 12.75
I heard it told but don't know ifin it is true dat dem boys Christopher and Matthew what am dem two big ol boys down dere would be knowed to poach a might when nobody was lookin! I heard it said dat dis one time dey was fishin on da bank and had seven or nine nice white perch fish in da cooler just lazy swimmin' round in dere when Shefiff Roby come up in dat Parish owned four wheel drive cruiser patrol car of his. "Mawnin' boys, how all y'all are?" "Fine sheriff dey replied." "Hmmm I see you catched some whiteperch fish so I reckin y'all got dem fishin' license?" "No sheriff we got no lisence but I didn't know you need one to exercise your trained fish." "Trained fish, what it is you talk bout dere boy?" ; Sheriff say to Christopher. "Well sir, Matthew say, "you see these fish are pet fish we trained to do trick swimming." "Matter of fact we just bring dem down here for some exercise today!" "W'all dat's about da most unbelievable story I ever heard in my own ears!" ; sheriff Roby replied. "Well you just watch this"; said Christopher. "I'll pour dese fish out in the lake and you just watch how they swim in circles and come right back to get back in dis cooler right here." "Well dis I got to see!"; said Robey. So the boys dumped the fish into the water and off they swam. Tree maybe fo minutes go by and nothin happen. Sheriff Robey say, "well. I don't see nothin happenin' I gonna have to write up you boys for catchin fish with no license!" "Catchin' what fish?; say Matthew.
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Post by Santa on Dec 9, 2006 4:32:28 GMT 12.75
HO! HO! HO! Hope everyone is all set for a terrific holiday this year! Thanksgiving was a real rush up North here. e tried everything you folk put on your menu and then some. I can hardly wait for some of those "Hot" frog legs. Man they sure sound delicilous. I wanted to drop by here and see if any of you good Cajun folk might know who wrote the following leter. I got it last year and it looks to me like it got put into the wrong envelope. Cajun 12 Days Of Christmas Day 1: Dear Bourdeaux, 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 Bourdeaux, You letter say you sent two turtle doves, but all I got was two scrawny pigeons. Anyhow, I dun mix them with de dirty rice and make sum Creole Jambalaya. If you sent me sum mor I will make some file’ Gumbo. Justin Wilson dun learned me how on his TB cooking show.
Day 3: Dear Boudreaux, Why doan you sent Crawfish? Me, I’m tried of eatin’ dem darn birds.
I gave two of dose prissy French chickens to Marie Gautier over at New Iberia an fed the tird one to my dog Phideaux. Marie dun need sum sparin’ partners for her fightin’ roosters.
Day 4: Dear Boudreaux, What far you do? I dun tole you no more birds. Deez fore, what you call dem "callin’ birds" so noisy you could hear dem all de way to Baratara. I use the necks for my crab traps, an fed de rest of them to de gators.
Day 5: Dear Boudreaux, you finally sen’ sumthin’ useful. Me, I like dem golden rings. Me, I hock um at the pawn shop in Thibodeaux and got enuf money to fix the butterfly nets on my shrimp boat an buy a round for the boys down at the Raisin’ Cane Inn. Merci Beaucoup!
Day 6: Dear Boudreaux, Back to de birds, you call Cajun turkey! Pore ole egg suckin’ Phideaux is scared to death at dem six geeses. He dun tried to eat dem eggs an they peck de heck ah his snout. Dey is good at eating cockroaches, though, I may stuff one of dem with oyster dressin’ on Christmas day.
Day 7: Dear Boudreaux, Me, I’m goina ring your fool neck nex time I ran into you. Broussard, the mailman, is ready to kill ya. Dropin from all dem birds is stinkin’ up his mailboat. He is afraid dat someone will slip on de stuff and sue him real good, no. I let them seven swans loose on de bayou an sum duck hunters with twice barrel shoots gun, blasted dem out of de water.
Day 8: Dear Boudreaux, pore ole Broussard, he dum make tree trips on his mailboat to deliver dem ate maids a milkin’ and their cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da gators an almose tipped over de boat. Me, I doan like dem shiftless maids, me no. I tolt dem to get to work guttin’ fish and sweepin’ the shack but dey say it ain’t in dair contract. Dem probaly think dey too good ta skin de nutras I catched las nite.
Day 9: Dear Boudreaux: Ya got to be out of ya mine. Broussard had to borrow the Lutcher ferry to carry dem jumpin’ twits ya call Lords-a- leapin’ across the Mississippi. As soon as dey gots here dey wanted a tea break with crumpets. I doan no what that mean, but I says, "Well La Di Da". Ya get Chicory coffe or nuttin’. What I’m gonna feed all des bozos? Dey to snooty for Shrimp Etouf’ee and de cows done went an ate my turnip greens.
Day 10: Dear Boudreaux, What ya tryin’ to do huh? If de mailmain don’t kill ya, I will fo sur.
Today he diliver 10 half naked floozies from Bourbon street. Dey say dey be "Ladies Dancin’ but dey doan like ladies in front of them leaping lords. Dey lef after one of dem got bit by a water moccasin over by de outhouse. I done had to butcher 2 cows to feed th hole bunch. Me, I had to get sum toilet paper, the sears catolog wasn’t good enuff for dose hoity toity Lord’s royal behinds.
Day 11: Dear Boudreaux, Where ya’at? Cheerio an pip pip. Your 11 pipers pipin’ arrives today from the House of the blues. We fixed stuffed goose and beef barbecue and we are havin’ a real hoe down. Da new mailman he is havin’ a good time, yeah, dancin’ with de floozies. Boussard he jumped from the Pontchartain bridge yesterde, screamin’ your name. If you get a mysterious tickin package, don’t open it.
Day 12: Dear Boudreaux: I am sorry to tell you I ain’t your true love no more. After da big hoe down, I fell for Jacque, the head piper. We decide to open a choke an puck and house of ill repute down on de Bayou. The floozies, pardon me, the dancin’ ladies, can $20 for table dancin’ an de Lords can be waiters an valet park de peroes. Since de maids doan have no more cows to milk, I train dem ta set my crab traps and run my trotlines, an run my shrimping an crawfish business.
We probably gross a million nex year. Me, I hope ya have a good Christmas.
Ya true love gone,
EstherDoes anybody here know who Ester is?
Merry Christmas! [/b][/size]
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Post by Tibidoux on Dec 16, 2006 18:23:00 GMT 12.75
AAWwwwww Ester??? She be my gal now der Santa. But hay, ifen yous cums on down hea und have you sum ettoufee you can git hooked up wid all 10 o dem Dancin gurls or even dem Lordy fellers if that's what you like. O, an don worry none bout dem deer on your truk none eder. Thay be safe as long as you don let then near da corn pile or salt lik. We jus put dem in da barn an don tell no won.
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Post by Paws on Dec 17, 2006 6:02:29 GMT 12.75
Ow bout dat Obey Wooman; you gots one dem dwon dere gurl?
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Post by Toby Benoit on Dec 17, 2006 10:25:59 GMT 12.75
Boudreaux and Clotile was there at their house along Bayou Lafitte and he was sittin' at the table counting out some money as Clotile was decorating a little Christmas tree in the next room.
"Ol' Man," she called to him, "You gonna sit there worryin' over that money? Dey's t'ings I need done 'round here."
"I kow that Woman," he said not too gruff, "I just got my pay in for the trapline today and I gotta add it up wid the savings I done made."
"Yeah, I seen all them pelts you was carrying out to the buyer. I 'spected you ta do purty good dis year, eh Ol Man?"
"Not so good, no," he replied.
"You had all of dem coon an dem nutria, and dem coyote dogs, and dem wildcats," she wondered.
"Yeah, but de prices, dey wasn't there this year. Gonna be a lean Chris'mas woman," he grumbled.
"But what about all of dem nutria rats you done been picked up on the highway year long? You had near' bout a hunnert?"
"Dat's right, I did, but dem year long hides, dey ain't all prime and don' fetch no good prices no how. Now, with that they ain't offered no prices on nothin', dem rats ain't much."
"You don't worry none, Ol' Man. Money don't mean no othin' for Christmas no how. We done been broke before," she told him. "You remember that Christmas when we came out here to live on the bayou? It was gators you was trappin' 'back den before the guv'ment man done said no more. You 'member dat music box you bought me dat year? It had a little angel carved on de lid."
"I remember Woman," he assured her.
"I sure did love dat ting, but den the babies came and seemed like they wasn't no more money no time, no matter how hard you worked. Then that year when lil' Boonie, he got de Chicken pox. I had to sell that music box to Ol' Lady Broussard to get de monies for the doctor."
"I remember, Ol' woman," he thought back on the countless times she'd brought up that old story.
"Now, them kids off and gone," she continued, "seems like we don' need no monies no how. We still got you and me here in dis ol house ain't we?"
"I hear ya Ol' Woman," he growled a little. "It's jus' dat at Chris'mas..." he trailed off.
He rose from the table and joined his wife in the living room as she was putting the last ornament on the little tree.
"While you was gone to the fur buyer, you took a long time. Where all you been since dis mornin', huh?"
"Took a walk," Boudreaux answered her," I went to see Ol' Emile. He got him a new mule and he painted dat damn mule's nose red, like dat reindeer de kid's used to sing about. It's a funny ting," he chuckled. "Emile, he works now for de widow Broussard since her Ol' Man done got hisself killed. He's keepin' dat mule in her barn der."
"I don't like you goin' by that Emile Robicheoux. He ain't no count, no way. Allus drinkin' and playin' wid dem card games," Clotile scolded him. "He ain't try to get you in on one of dem card games wit yall's trappn' money did he?"
"He ain't done no such a thang, Woman. You don't to be talkin' bad on a man at Chrismas," he scolded back lightly.
"I know you're right, Ol' Man. I won't say no more about..."
A knock at the door of the old couple's house cut her off in mid sentence and she hurried to the door to see what guests might have come unannounced for a visit.
Darkness had settled over the bayou country that chilly Christmas eve and Clotile looked out the window to see who might have been outside, but the window was coated in a fog.
She turned the latch and there, just off her porch stood a big gray mule with a red painted nose. And just beside that mule stood Santa Clause, or as Clotile recognised, was Emile Ribicheoux wearing a red Santa cap and a fake white beard above his dirty, thread-bare overhauls.
"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Boudreax! Me, I got a package what I'm s'posed to deliver here. Don't tank me none about it though, Santa got a letter dat you done been good, so here it is," he held up a little box wrapped in pretty red paper.
Clotile stepped lightly across the porch and took the gift from the impromptu Santa and smiled sweetly.
"Won't you come in?" she asked kindly, ignoring the smell of liquor on Santa's breath.
"Dat won' do now Mrs. Boudreax. Me, I got's to take dis h'year reindeer and go deliver some presents. Ya'll have one of dem Merry Christmas," he told her in a deep santa voice and mounted his mule and rode off out of the yard.
Clotile came back inside the house and Boudreaux called to her, "who dat on de porch der Woman?"
"Santa Clause," she giggled, knowing that he'd put that drunk Emile, up to it.
She came closer to where her husband was standing and began to unwrap her gift with a smile. As the bright red paper fell away, she lifted the lid from the little box and her smile fell away from her face. She looked up to her Ol' Man and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, tears formed at the corner of her eyes and threatened to spill over onto her cheeks.
Reaching into the little box she lifted out an old wooden music box with a little angel carved on the lid.
"Merry Chris'mas, Ol' Woman," he told her softly as she fell into his arms.
Outside the house on the bayou, an awkward Santa sat atop of a painted nosed mule sipping from a flask of homemade wine and listening to the soft, tinkling sound of music coming from the house he was leaving. He didn't sing out into the cold Christmas air, but remembered the tune he'd learned from years ago and sang the words in his head until he couldn't hear the tinkling music anymore, "Si-lent night, Ho-ly night....."
Merry Christmas my friends!!!!
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Post by OLKoot on Dec 17, 2006 15:15:57 GMT 12.75
Toby, that was great and the same to you and many more.......OLKOOT
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Post by Bro. Freddie on May 6, 2008 11:36:12 GMT 12.75
Boudreaux & Clarence
Boudreaux lived across the bayou from Clarence, who Boudreaux did not like. There was no bridge or other easy way to cross the bayou so the two would argue by yelling across the bayou.
Boudreaux would often yell across the bayou to Clarence, "Clarence, if I had a way to cross dat bayou, I would come beat you up!".
The threats continued for many years.
One day the state built a bridge across the Bayou.
Soon after the bridge was built, Boudreaux's wife, Clotile, says "Boudreaux, you've been talking about going across dat bayou to beat up Clarence all dese years. Now that they have dat bridge, what are you waiting for?"
So Boudreaux decided it was time to go see Clarence, so he started walking down to the bridge.
Just as he was getting ready to cross the bridge, he looks up at the sign on the bridge, reads it, and goes back home.
When Boudreaux gets home, Clotile asks "Mais, Boudreaux, did you go beat up Clarence?" Boudreaux said, "Mais no Clotile, dat sign on dat bridge says 'Clearance 13 feet 3 inches'.
Mais, Clotile, Clarence don't look DAT big from across de bayou!"
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Post by Bro. Freddie on Mar 5, 2009 14:18:41 GMT 12.75
Boudreaux and Thibodeaux are walking down a street in Houston when they see a sign on a store that reads, "Suits $5.00 each, shirts $2.00 each, trousers $2.50 per pair."
Boudreaux says to his pal, "Look here! We could buy a whole gob of these, take 'em back to Abbeville, sell 'em to our friends, and make a fortune. Now when we go in there you be quiet, okay? Just let me do the talkin' 'cause if they hear your accent, they might think we're ignorant, and try to cheat us. Now, I'll talk in a slow Texas drawl so's they don't know."
They go in and Boudreaux says with his best fake Texas accent,"I'll take 50 of them suits at $5.00 each, 100 of them there shirts at $2.00 each, and 50 pairs of them there trousers at $2.50 each. I'll back up my pickup and ...."
The owner of the shop interrupts, "Y'all are from Louisiana , ain't you?"
"Well...yeah," says a surprised Boudreaux. "Mais, how come you know dat!"
The owner says, "Because this is a dry-cleaners."
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Post by gsoflittledove on Feb 3, 2010 9:52:06 GMT 12.75
Someun reported to that Game Warrden that boudroaux was pochen the State Bird of Loisinia (Plequins)
Well that old Game Warrden silps up on The house that Boudreaux stays at. Sure enouff there is Boudreaux out back Pluckin them feather off a couple Pelequins.
the old game warrden says what je got here Boudreaux, Boudreaux never nissin a pluck says a White bird.
The old Game Warrden says Now Boudreaux you know themis Plequins, whats ues gonnado wiht them Plequins.
Boudreaux says now yoj do knows aqbouts me with no work and Iz needs somthins for thems youngs tos fills ther belliys up.
The old Game Warreen says Well youes needs stop. for thats aganced thrr law.
Boudreaux saus he will.
As the Old Game Warrden turns to go. He says well Boudreaux how does them Plequins tast
Boudreaux says Kinda likea a Eagle but more lika Woopeningcrain
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Post by Toby Benoit on Feb 3, 2010 11:10:29 GMT 12.75
Oh boy, more Coonass stories! ;D ;D ;D
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