out on the porch then and called out, “Breakfas’ is ready. I gots grits ‘n cane syrup, boudin ‘n dippy eggs, beaten biscuits and white gravy. Come ‘n get it.”
“Holy crawfish! I’m the one gonna need Richard Simmons by the time she leaves,” Rene said.
“Does she cook this much food all the time?” Val asked him.
“All the time. And if you don’t eat, she acts as if you’ve put a spike through her heart.”
“Back to your passion for the bayou. Let’s make one thing perfectly clear. I am not going to help you.
But I’ll give you a bit of advice. You are not going to change people’s minds about the Louisiana environment with some dull documentary on saving the snail darter.”
“There are no snail darters in the bayou.”
“Whatever! Smaller coastline. Missing plants. A disappearing animal no one has ever heard of. People just don’t give a damn unless it hits them personally. Remember Bill Clinton’s campaign for president? His advisers kept harping, ‘It’s the economy, stupid!’ Well, I’m telling you that you’ve got to find an issue that screams, ‘It’s about you, stupid!’“
She made a good point. The problem was, he had no clue what that issue could be. Unless.. . ? He smiled as an idea came to him. “That’s why I came home and gave up the fight. Even I know that plants are about as exciting as a lawnmower manual. But let me be the first to tell you, baby, there are going to be a whole lot of Cajun men, and their women, who are going to be unhappy campers come ten years or so down the line when they discover the Juju plant is no longer available.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he was no fool. He knew how to play her strings. Well, some of them. He held his silence, like a regular Cool Hand Luke.
“All right, I’ll bite. What’s a Juju plant?”
Yeeees! He gave himself a mental high five. “It’s the substance that gives Cajun men that extra zip, if you know what I mean.”
“Puh-leeze.”
“Really. When the oil fields were going gangbusters over in Texas, lots of Cajun men went over there to work. The Texas women went ballistic, practically jumping their bones, because they were such great lovers.”
“Puh-leeze,” she said again.
But that didn’t deter him. She was listening, which he took as a good sign. “When the Texas men wanted to know what their secret was, the Cajun men told them that their mamas had been giving them Juju tea ever since they were old enough to get the notion.”
Val was shaking her head from side to side, as if he were a really hopeless case. “I’ve heard that story before, except they usually credit the fat in crawfish as the secret to their supposed virility.”
“Both of them work,” he continued with a wink.
“Nice try, Rene”.”
He put up both hands. “Hey, I’m only reporting what they say. I’m not saying it’s true or not.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you made up this whole story just to distract me. You like to tease me, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Because you’re so teaseable.”
“How immature!”
“That’s me.”
“Let’s go eat. I’ll probably gain twenty pounds before I emerge from this nightmare, for which you will be responsible.”
“Is that a crime, too?” He laughed. “A fat felony?” “If there isn’t a charge for that, I’ll create one.” “I know a real good exercise,” he offered. She sliced him with a glare. “Or maybe not.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Professor Doolittle, that’s who he was. As in do little . . .
One day later, and Valerie was still sitting not-so-pretty in the middle of bayou hell.
It was only mid-afternoon but the skies were dark and a high wind was rising, which had prompted all the bayou animals to run for cover. Humidity was hovering around the hundreds, if the perspiration pouring off her body was any indication. Hopefully they would get some welcome rain soon to relieve the sweltering heat. If
“Holy crawfish! I’m the one gonna need Richard Simmons by the time she leaves,” Rene said.
“Does she cook this much food all the time?” Val asked him.
“All the time. And if you don’t eat, she acts as if you’ve put a spike through her heart.”
“Back to your passion for the bayou. Let’s make one thing perfectly clear. I am not going to help you.
But I’ll give you a bit of advice. You are not going to change people’s minds about the Louisiana environment with some dull documentary on saving the snail darter.”
“There are no snail darters in the bayou.”
“Whatever! Smaller coastline. Missing plants. A disappearing animal no one has ever heard of. People just don’t give a damn unless it hits them personally. Remember Bill Clinton’s campaign for president? His advisers kept harping, ‘It’s the economy, stupid!’ Well, I’m telling you that you’ve got to find an issue that screams, ‘It’s about you, stupid!’“
She made a good point. The problem was, he had no clue what that issue could be. Unless.. . ? He smiled as an idea came to him. “That’s why I came home and gave up the fight. Even I know that plants are about as exciting as a lawnmower manual. But let me be the first to tell you, baby, there are going to be a whole lot of Cajun men, and their women, who are going to be unhappy campers come ten years or so down the line when they discover the Juju plant is no longer available.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he was no fool. He knew how to play her strings. Well, some of them. He held his silence, like a regular Cool Hand Luke.
“All right, I’ll bite. What’s a Juju plant?”
Yeeees! He gave himself a mental high five. “It’s the substance that gives Cajun men that extra zip, if you know what I mean.”
“Puh-leeze.”
“Really. When the oil fields were going gangbusters over in Texas, lots of Cajun men went over there to work. The Texas women went ballistic, practically jumping their bones, because they were such great lovers.”
“Puh-leeze,” she said again.
But that didn’t deter him. She was listening, which he took as a good sign. “When the Texas men wanted to know what their secret was, the Cajun men told them that their mamas had been giving them Juju tea ever since they were old enough to get the notion.”
Val was shaking her head from side to side, as if he were a really hopeless case. “I’ve heard that story before, except they usually credit the fat in crawfish as the secret to their supposed virility.”
“Both of them work,” he continued with a wink.
“Nice try, Rene”.”
He put up both hands. “Hey, I’m only reporting what they say. I’m not saying it’s true or not.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you made up this whole story just to distract me. You like to tease me, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Because you’re so teaseable.”
“How immature!”
“That’s me.”
“Let’s go eat. I’ll probably gain twenty pounds before I emerge from this nightmare, for which you will be responsible.”
“Is that a crime, too?” He laughed. “A fat felony?” “If there isn’t a charge for that, I’ll create one.” “I know a real good exercise,” he offered. She sliced him with a glare. “Or maybe not.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Professor Doolittle, that’s who he was. As in do little . . .
One day later, and Valerie was still sitting not-so-pretty in the middle of bayou hell.
It was only mid-afternoon but the skies were dark and a high wind was rising, which had prompted all the bayou animals to run for cover. Humidity was hovering around the hundreds, if the perspiration pouring off her body was any indication. Hopefully they would get some welcome rain soon to relieve the sweltering heat. If
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