Before I get in trouble for blogging during work, just know it’s a quick cut & paste. I often reference a cajun background and it’s hard enough to imitate a cajun accent nevertheless explain that it’s not at all southern. So, for your enjoyment, a cajun joke forwarded to me from my grandfather. This can be dissected into a long ass diatribe about cajun culturalisms on so many levels, I don’t know where to start. So let’s just start here, read it aloud and you will be echoing the accent of several of my teachers from grade school to high school:
and his wife Clotille lived on a little farm outside Mamou.
One day Clotille said, “Mais, Boudreaux, you have to get rid of dat dog. All he does is lie under de front porch and turn over da trash cans.”
Boudreaux said, “Okay. Cher . I’ll get rid of him.”
He put him in the pickup, drove down the road a couple of miles and dumped him out. He drove home and in a few minutes the dog showed up. So he put him back in the truck, drove several more miles and dumped him out.
After getting back home, the dog showed up again.
Clotille said, “You have to take him out and drive around and around a lot in circles, den dump him out. Dat way he won’t know da way home.”
Boudreaux said, “You some smart, Clotille, and dat’s why I marry you.”
Boudreaux took the dog, drove all around and zigzagged a lot then dumped the dog out.
He started back home but pulled over and parked and called Clotille on his cell phone. “Has dat dog come back yet?”
Clotille answered “Yes, he just came in.”
Boudreaux said, “Well, put him up to da phone – I’m lost.”