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July 31, 2007

Jim: All Roads Lead To The Gator, Part Deux

Its plank walls showing more mold than paint, the Gator Saloon jutted like a rotten tooth between the bayou and a two-lane road paved with white and nacre crushed oyster shells.

Mrs. Thibodeaux stormed into the Gator, lugging a heavy suitcase. “Andre!” she yelled at her husband. “I’m leavin’!”

Andre turned on the barstool. “Ga lee, Beb,” he said in thick Cajun. “Whar you go?”

“Nyawlins,” she sneered. “Walkin’ if I gotta.”

“Whar for?”

“I heard you a ped-o-phile!”

Andre’s eyes widened. “Ooo-eee!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “That thar’s a big ol’ word coming from a thirteen year ol’.”

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Comments

Let the booing and hissing begin!

Posted by: Jim at July 31, 2007 4:27 PM · Permalink