Twelve days of Crissmus in de bayou....

Day 1: Dear Boudreaux, T'anks 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 mix 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 damn birds. I gave two of dose prissy French chickens to Marie
Trahan over at Grand Bayou an fed the t'ird one to my dog Phideaux. Marie
needed some sparring 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" was 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 Thibodaux 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, Cochon! 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 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 yo' fool neck next time I
see you. T-Beaux, 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 dose 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 ole T-Beau, he had to make t'ree trips
on his mailboat to deliver dem 8 maids a milkin and dey 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
think dey too good ta skin nutrias I caught las' night.

Day 9: Dear Boudreaux, What you trying to do huh? T-Beau had to
borrow de 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 wit'
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 fo' 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 outhouse.  I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde an' had to get
toilet paper; The 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 the House of Blues, second lining as dey
got off de boat. We fixed stuffed goose and beef jambalaya, finished da
whiskey and we having a fais-do-do. Da new mailman he drink a bottle o; Jack
Daniel an he having a good time yeah dancing with de floozies. Th-Beau 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 a restaurant and gennelman's club on de bayou. The
floozies, pardon me, Ladies Dancing can make $20 fo' a table dance, and de
Lords can be waiters an valet park de boats. Since de maids doan have no more
cows ta milk, I trained dem ta set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, an'
run my shrimping business. We will probably gross a million clams nex
year.