The Poo from Mamou

Oh, y'all! Pull up a chair for a tragic story of heartbreak, wastefulness and intestinal discourse.

We were invited to a crawfish boil yesterday where Big Daddy was challenged to a cook-off where he was pitted against Papa Swan and Little David. The intention was a blind taste-test for the best seasoning recipe. There were just over 100 lbs to be cooked - enough for each of them to cook two #3 tubs full.

As we arrived at Papa Swan's with burner, propane, #3 tub, seasonings and fixin's in tow, we noticed a strange smell coming from the garage. Papa Swan has new landscaping, so we thought it was the mulch - ya know how new mulch has that warm manure smell?- well, it smelled like that. I approached the bin with the crawfish and the odor got stronger. I looked to make sure the things weren't dead! They were crawlin' all over, so I thought, "Well, maybe it's coming from somewhere else." I went inside to the cool A/C (it was only 96 yesterday) to get my fill of chips and dip.

A little while later, I went out to check on the boys. When I opened the door to the garage - WHOA NELLIE! - what a stench....I was gettin' the feeling that these crawfish were bad, 'cause, baby, that was no mulch makin' that stanky smell! You all know how rotten seafood smells - just nasty and fishy (phaison des, as Big Daddy would say). But this smell was seriously POOP-IE! I went over and asked Big Daddy for a potato from his tub. When he lifted the lid, any thought I had that we may possibly be able to save these crawfish was done - Take the L out of Lover, cause it was OVER! All was ruint!

So we had about 25 people standing there, waiting for the poopy crawfish. What to do? We threw it all out on the table. Some decided to dig in. Little David was in terminal denial, I mean, especially enthusiastic. He ate and ate - spitting out the 3 bad to 2 good that came his way. Sooner than later, the bad crawfish came back on him. We thought we were going to have issue numbers to get to the bathroom. Big Daddy and I wouldn't even touch the potatoes, corn or sausage. After MUCH discussion, we all finally decided that Papa Swan needed his money back because these crawfish had a Disease. The Poo Disease.

Papa Swan called the guy who he bought the crawfish from and invited him over for a taste test. That guy didn't know what he was getting into. Little David's sister, the Enforcer, gave the guy H.E.L.L. "Where did you get these things?" she demanded. "Mamou", he said.

SIDENOTE: Everybody knows that when it comes to crawfish, you call 1-800-Crawfish and "the crawfish man" will bring them to that gas station on I-10 and you meet the truck with your cooler. They are always good and the price is right. But, man, you have to drive over there and get 'em.

Anyway, those crawfish became known as the The Poo from Mamou. Sadly, we threw out more than 60 lbs of crawfish. The good news is that Papa Swan got his money back. But the guys were left to dispose of all that crawfish. (Guess the gator in the bayou behind Papa Swan's house will be happy.)

Lesson learned:
Don't eat The Poo from Mamou because if you do, it will come back on you.