Mayor Henri Godenot received this letter from Mr. Isadore Boudreaux and requested that it be shared with our readers.
Dear Mayor,
Thank you for sending my marbles. I think there was some kinda hole in my marble bag, and I would have been lost lost lost like Quebedeaux’s hoss if I had gone to Chicago for the Marbles Championship without my marbles.
Instead, I took me first place. Here is what happened:
We took the train to Chicago and rented a white mule to go from the train station to the contest. We wanted us a white mule so it would be easy to find our ride. Everyone else must have thought the same way, there must have been 20 white mules tied up behind the championship hall.
I GOT TO PLAY MARBLES ON THE CARPETED FLOOR OF A CASINO!
Anyway, after I won, and we took the pictures and stuff, we tried to leave but it was hard to remember where Thibodeaux had parked the mule. I was nervous, me, in the big city, but Thibodeaux was as solid as a rock. He started looking under the tails of all of the mules, saying, “No, not this one.”
I axed him, “Mais Thibodeaux, what you looking for?”
Thibodeaux said, “Special anatomy, Boudreaux! Didn’t you hear those guys talking when we rode up? ‘Look at them two asses on that mule!’?”
We finally found it, and caught the train, and made it home.
I brought you some sausage from Chicago.
—Boudreaux