Boudreaux & Band-Aids (that's pronounced BOO-dro, for y'all
not familiar with Louisiana )
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
sprung 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 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
butt and Clotile staring at him from across the room.
She said, "You were drunk again last night weren't you
Boudreaux?" Boudreaux said, "My chere, 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."
