Paris, I need not say more (Part 3 of many)

Part 1Part 2, Part 3 (currently viewing), Part 4, Part 5

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Atop a hill sits a gaudy chateau that overlooks the entire city.  It boasts three tennis courts, one Olympic size swimming pool, and a turf croquet field, and that was only one room of the pretentious limestone mansion.  It has over 600 karats of diamonds locked away behind its cold iron gate that threatened to impale anyone who tried to outsmart it, and that’s just counting the champagne glasses, not the twelve chandeliers comprised of “only the best” diamonds, which were apparently stolen from the Prince of Wales’ castle, but rumor has it when he sent the royal guard to retrieve them, they were intimidated by the fountain in the front, which depicts a horrifyingly lifelike figure of Medusa with water spurting out from her hair like snakes with a sinister hiss.  Or they were intimidated by Jacques and Mars, the two Doberman Pinschers who roam the grounds as enforcers of fear, just in case Medusa wasn’t enough.  Some people even say they have ties to the Mafia, but I’m not curious enough to find out.  No, not this cat.  But Odette and her family do have superb taste in washroom linens.

After making the arduous trek up the driveway that had more winds than a snow globe, I buzzed in at the gate.  Odette’s father did not recognize me; he never does, even after my two year entanglement with his daughter.  Luckily, Odette was there to remind him that “the bum at the gate” was her soon-to-be husband, and his proud soon-to-be son-in-law.

As soon as the wind from my breath passed the gate, I could hear Jacques and Mars’ menacing growl, but they lightened up when they noticed it was only me and began rolling on the ground and panting violently.  They love me. At least more than the old man, which, any at all, was sufficient to oust his position in “who loves me more.”

Odette was waiting on the front stairs to make my voyage less strenuous on my body.  She even came down three steps, so I would only have to climb thirty-seven on my own.  The last three I would have to carry her up.  What a sweetheart.

“Arthur, will you hurry up, I’m freezing out here.”  She remarked in her forced French accent.  She said it made her sound more sophisticated.  I thought it sounded like some fish getting baited.

I could only pant in response.

“Is that any way to greet ton espose?”

Still pants and an occasional grunt.

“Well then,” she pouted, “You’re welcome to stay with Jacques and Mars until you decide to act civilized.”

I couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not.  Until she spun on her heels, making sure her blonde curls slapped my cheek, stomped inside and shut the door behind her.  Leaving me to pant with the dogs.  Women.  Now you see why I play out fantasies with Fleur in my mind.  She’ll get over it though, the same exact thing happened last week, and I only had to walk up thirty-five steps.

As I made my way towards the gate, Medusa silently watched me, and wordlessly terrorized me.  I walked a little faster until I could breathe again.  I’m still a bit breathless today.

                           à suivre, to be continued

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4 thoughts on “Paris, I need not say more (Part 3 of many)

  1. Pingback: Paris, I need not say more (Part 2 of many) | There's a better way

  2. Pingback: Paris, I need not say more (Part 1 of many) | There's a better way

  3. Pingback: Paris, I need not say more (Part 4 of many) | There's a better way

  4. Pingback: Paris, I need not say more | There's a better way

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