A Little Cajun Spice!
Boudreaux staggered home very late after another
evening with his drinking buddy, Thibodeaux.
He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Clotile.
He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading
to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step.
As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and
he landed heavily on his rump.
A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made
the landing especially painful.
Managing not to yell, Boudreaux sprang up, pulled down his pants, and looked in
the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding.
He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began
putting Band-Aids as best he could on each place he saw blood.
He then hid the now almost empty box and shuffled and stumbled his
way to bed.
In the morning, Boudreaux woke up with searing pain in both
his head and backside – and Clotile staring at him from across
the room.
She said, ‘You were drunk again last night weren’t you Boudreaux?’
Boudreaux said, ‘Mon cher, why you say such a mean ting?’
‘Well,’ Clotile said, ‘it could be the open front door,
it could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could
be the drops of blood trailing through the house, it could be your
bloodshot eyes, but mostly……it’s
all those Band-Aids stuck on the downstairs mirror!’
– Thanks again to Dorothy139!
~~~
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