I was back in Bayou Pompideux last week on unofficial business and ran across my friend, Maurice Gatreux.
We were having lunch, enjoying some excellent red beans and rice, with a link of boudin at Mama Moutons SnackBar and Exxon Service Station. I can say, without reservation, this is the very best place to dine in Bayou Pompideux. In fact, it's the only place.

During our conversation, I asked Maurice how his wife, Desiree, was getting along.

Upon hearing the question, he had a look on his face, that either portrayed remorse or relief.
I would describe it as a sarcastic grin, with a touch of a smile. It's hard to read Maurice's thoughts, when he is sober.
He then began his latest tale.....

" Well, Mr reporter Man, I guess yo don no bout me spendin de las 78 days in de jail hous.
Dat no good sheriff,Bubba Broussard, dun caught me down on de bayou, gigging me som of dem big ol bull frogs, dat he say was out o seesun. Now everbody know, dem frog legs tase good in any seesun.
He den brought me to ol judge Pierre Broussard. Dat's de sheriffs poppa, you no.

He tel de judge bout me gigging dem frogs an den dat fool say I was spillin my walla wine in de bayou. Now you no, I aint gonna spill no walla wine, dat stuff tu good to waste.
Well dat judge say Maurice,I no gonna fine you for giggin dem frogs, bein yo nice enough tu giv dem frog leg to me an Bubba, but you dun broke de Mayor's Ordenancy, spillin dat walla wine in de bayou. and I got's to fine yo $9.38 an put you in de jail house fo 78 days.
I say, judge, I aint never brok nuttin dat belong tu de mayor, except mebbe, de handle on dat ol grubbin hoe, he lone me las year.

But I no you don wanna hear all dis,Mr. Reporter Man, so I tells you bout my wife, Desiree.
Well it's som good news and som sad.
De good news, she dun up an run away wit a travelin Tabasco Salesman, whil I in de jail hous....De sad news, dey dun tuk all my walla wine wit dem. Ol Henri Lebec say he wont hav nun cooked up till nex Satty. Dats why I not drunk rat now, I garontee.

Gaston Lebreaux say he dun see Desiree las week, livin up in Shreveport an wurkin as a bar tender at Jaques Honky Tonk and Funeral Parlor.
Dats de place dat can gets you high or gets you low.
I don no how she wurk behin de bar, caus she so big, dey hav to move de bar out annuder six feet, so she can squeeze in dere. I not to unset wit her leavin, cause dat woman wuz eatin me outta shack and shed. I garontee, dat big woman coud ate a hole gator tail and den finish off a whole pot o red beans an rice, includin five poun o possum sausage.

I not say she big, but when we got marry, her mama mak her weddin dress outta tu o dem army surplus parachute, she buy at de army an navy suplus stow in Baton Rouge.

One good ting. I lak bout dat woman was she a dam fine jole blon an could dance de chankachank all nite long. Only problem, she so big, when she dance de chankachank, her body wus still dancin five minute after de music stop.
Now I dun tawk tu long, so I gotta go and hep ol Henri mak dat bon walla wine.
By de way, here de pictur I tuk o dat woman las year. when I won dat Kodak camra at de bingo parlor. Truble wus, she tu big tu fit in de pictur.