I was thrilled to get that party invitation from my coworker Marcus, until I read the part that said, “The soiree will begin at 7 pm.”
Soiree? What’s a soiree? That sounds dirty to me. I am just a red-neck hillbilly and I don’t know nuthin’ about soiree-in’.
I told Marcus, “I don’t do no soiree-in’ outside of marriage. And I am not gonna put up with that kind of smut in our town!”
My plan was to attend the soiree with a tiny camera hidden in my bra and catch the illicit soiree-in’ on tape.
I drafted my cousin Rex to assist in my scheme. Rex is a little rough around the edges, but he showed up at least presentable. He was wearin’ his Sunday overalls and had cleaned most of the manure off his boots. I decided to overlook the fact that he was not wearing his teeth.
When we pulled up in front of Marcus’s big fancy house, I was not impressed. He didn’t have a single pink plastic flamingo or concrete goose in his yard.
Then some fella tried to grab Rex’s keys and steal his truck. Rex worked him over real good. I don’t blame him. The thief kept yelling, “I’m the valet!” Rex said, “I don’t care who you are, you ain’t gittin’ my truck!”
We knocked on the door and Marcus let us in and said to help ourselves to something that sounded like Patty DeFwaguaw. I told Rex I better turn on the hidden camera. Patty probably is some French hooker. This must be where the soiree-in’ really starts.
It turned out pate de foie gras is some kind of goose liver you are supposed to eat. No thank you! Marcus also had what he called a seafood buffet, but it looked like bait to me and Rex. It is a sorry excuse for a party when there ain’t even no pork rinds. Wasn’t no beer, neither. Just something Marcus called Chateau La Fitte, which I think is French for House of Feet. It probably is that kind of booze that barefooted foreigners stomp on with their bare feet. I seen it on TV once. It is a good thing Rex brought his own moonshine.
After a while, Rex got all liquored up and went out to his truck to get his fishin’ pole. We was gettin’ mighty hungry. Rex caught a nice-sized fish in Marcus’s concrete pond out back and built a fire and cooked and ate it.
Boy, was Marcus mad! He said it was his prized koi fish worth thousands of dollars. Rex told Marcus he got ripped off. It didn’t taste no better than catfish.
I tried to get Marcus’s temper fit on tape, but my hidden camera shorted out and set my bra on fire. The doctor says he wants to do dermoplasty on me. Is that dirty? That sounds dirty to me.
But I am ready if that doctor tries any funny business. Rex is coming to the hospital to visit me today and he has got a camera hidden in his overalls.
2 thoughts on “WHAT’S A SOIREE? THAT SOUNDS DIRTY TO ME”
That is funny Denise – especially to a good ol’ city slicker like me! Sunday overalls, most of the manure, overlook not wearin’ teeth – funny!
Haha! Good story, Denise. Country bumpkins at a soirée.