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Microcap & Penny Stocks : DGIV-A-HOLICS...FAMILY CHIT CHAT ONLY!! -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: William Brotherson who wrote (34144)	12/16/1998 7:10:00 PM
From: E'Lane	Respond to of 50264

Cajun Christmas (dedicated to Craig <vbg>) Day - 1 Dear Boudreaux, Thanks for da bird in da Pear tree. I fixed it las' night with dirty rice. I doan tink da pear tree will grow in the swamp, so I swapped it for a Satsuma. Day - 2 Dear Boudreaux, Your letter say you sent two turtle doves, but all I got was two scrawny pigeons. Anyway, I mixed them with andouille and made some gumbo out of dem. Day - 3 Dear Boudreaux, Why doan you sent some crawfish. I'm tired of eating dem darn birds. I gave two of those prissy French chickens to Marie Trahan over at Grans Bayou and fed the tird one to my dog, Phideaux. Marie needed some sparing partners for her fighting rooster. Day - 4 Dear Boudreaux, Mon Dieux! I told you no more birds. Deez four, what you call themcalling birds were so noisy you could hear dem all da way to Napoleonville. I used dere necks for my crab traps, and fed da rest of dem to da gators. Day - 5 Dear Boudreaux, You finally sent something useful. I liked 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 and buy a round for da boys at da Raisin' Cane Lounge. Merci Beaucoup! Day - 6 Dear Boudreaux, Couchon! Back to da birds, you turkey! Poor egg suckin' Phideaux is scared to death at dem six geeeses. He tried to eat dems eggs and dey peck da heck out ah his shout. They 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 you. 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 da bayou and some duck hunters from Mississippi blasted dem out of da water. Talk to you tomorrow. Day - 8 Dear Boudreaux, Poor ole Thibeau 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 sweeping the shack but dey say it wasn't in dair contract. Dey probably think they 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 them jumpin twits you call Lords-a- Leaping across the bayou. As soon as dey gots here they 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 these bozos? They too snooty for fried nutria, and the cows ate my turnip greens. Day - 10 Dear Boudreaux, You got to be out of your mind! If da mailman don't kill you, I will for sure. Today he delivered 10 half nakid floozies from Bourbon Street. They said they be Ladies Dancin but they doan act like ladies in front of dose Limey twits. They almost left after one of dem got bit by awater moccasin over by my out-house. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde (everybody) and get toilet paper. The Sears catalog wasn't good enuf for dose hoity toity lord's royal behind. Day - 11 Dear Boudreaux, Where Y'at. Cheerio and pip pip. Your 11 pipers piping arrives today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off da boat. We fixed snuffed goose and beef jambalaya, finished da whiskey and we're having a fais-do-do. The new mailman drank a bottle of Jack Daniels and he's having a good time dancing with the floozies. The old mailman jumped off of the Sunshine Bridge yesterday, screaming your name. If you get a mysterious, ticking package in the mail, don't open it. Day - 12 Dear Boudreaux, 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 decided to open a restaurant and gentleman's club on the bayou. The floozies, pardon me, Ladies dancing can make $20 for waitin on a table, and the lords can be waiters and valet park de boats. Since the maids have no more cows to milk, I trained dem to set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, and run my shrimping business. We will probably gross a million dollars next year.