Little T-Boud had been to a birthday party at a friend's house. Knowing about his insatiable sweet tooth, T-Boud's mother looked straight into his eyes and said, "I hope you didn't ask for a second piece of cake."
"No, but I asked Mrs. Hebert for the recipe so you could make some just like it . . . and she gave me two more pieces without me asking."
Two Cajuns (guess who) were waiting at a bus stop when a truck went by loaded up with rolls of turf.
Boudreaux said "I'm gonna do dat when I win da lottry!"
"What's dat" asked Thibodeaux.
"Send da lawn off to be mowed"
Thibodeaux walks in the door at home and immediately walks up to his wife and says, "Clotile, what would you do if I won da Lottry?"
She replies: "Mais, I'd take half and leave you old lazy butt, of course."
Thibodeaux instantly smiles and responds, "I just won $12 on this week's Lottry. Here's $6. NOW GET YOUSELF OUT!"
One day at the end of class, little Boudreaux's teacher tells the class to go home and think of a story, and then wanted them to come up with the moral of that story for class the next day.
The following morning, the teacher asks for the first volunteer to tell their story and little Clotile raises her hand.
"My dad owns a farm and every Sunday we load da chicken eggs on da truck and drive into town to sell dem at the market. Well, one Sunday we hit a big bump and all da eggs flew out of the basket and onto the road."
The teacher asks for the moral of the story. Clotile replies, "Don't keep all you eggs in one basket."
Next is little Marie. "Well my dad owns a farm too, and every weekend we take da chicken eggs and put dem in da incubator. Last weekend only 8 of the 12 eggs hatched."
The teacher asks for the moral of that story. Marie replies "Don't count your eggs before dey hatched."
Last is finally little Boudreaux's turn. "My Uncle Hebert fought in da Vietnam war. His plane was shot down over enemy territory. He jumped out before it crashed wit only a case of beer, a machine gun and a machete. On da way down he drank da case of beer. Unfortunately, he landed right in da middle of 100 Vietnamese soldiers. He shot 70 wit his machine gun, but ran out of bullets, so he pulled out his machete and killed 20 more. The blade on his machete broke, so he killed da last ten wit his bare hands him."
Teacher looks in shock at Boudreaux and asks if there is possibly any moral to his story.
Boudreaux replies, "Mais yea teacher, don't ever mess wit my Uncle Hebert when he's been drinking!"
There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins were not invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies, while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat.
We take English for granted. But . . . if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig. And why is it that writers write, but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce, and hammers don't ham?
If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So, one moose, 2 meese? One index, two indices? Is cheese the plural of choose?
If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play, and play at a recital?
Ship by truck, and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? Park on driveways and drive on parkways? How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?
How can the weather be hot as hell one day and cold as hell another?
When a house burns up, it burns down. You fill in a form by filling it out, and an alarm clock goes off by going on. When the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.
And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this essay, I end it.
Boudreaux was driving down the road the other day, with his Cajun wife, Marie, and his very Cajun mother-in-law in the car. Every couple of hundred yards, the two women would take turns telling him something about his driving.
"Slow down! Watch the other car! Don't drive so close to the center line! Look out for that curve! . . ."
After a while this started to wear on Boudreaux. He slams on the brakes and pulls onto the shoulder of the road. Turning to Marie, he says, "Look, who's driving dis car? You . . . or your Momma?"
A very attractive and extremely shapely young lady, accompanied by an equally homely looking older lady, entered Doctor Boudreaux's office.
"We have come for an examination," said the young girl.
"Mais alright," Doc Boudreaux tells her. "Go behind dat curtain and take all you clothes off."
"Oh no, it's not for me," said the girl. "it's for my old aunt here."
"Oh, well in dat case," Doc Boudreaux tells the elderly woman, "Stick you tongue out cher."
Boudreaux was on his deathbed and gasped pitifully. It was difficult for him to talk, but he says to his bride, "Marie, will you give me one last request?"
"Of course Boudreaux. Anyting mon cher," his wife said softly.
"Six months after I die" Boudreaux said, "I wants you to marry Thibodeaux."
Marie remarks, "But I thought you hated Thibodeaux."
With his last breath, Boudreaux said, "I do !!!"
A wise OCD* once told me his definition of success during the various stages in life.
When you are two years old, success is not peeing in your pants.
When you are 16, success is "Gettin' a little."
When you are 50, success is all about having had a great career and family life.
When you are 65, success is "Gettin' a little."
And when you are 80, success is not peeing in your pants.
It appears there is more to the "circle of life" than I was aware of . . .
*Old Cajun Dude