dimanche 30 novembre 2008

Regency nonsense

The gentleman in the dashing coat and shining Hessian boots drew the curricle to a halt and descended in one swift move. The stable boys stared at the beautifully-matched pair of bays and glared at the tiger with a pang of envy as his master handed him the reins.

“Walk them, I shall not be long.”

He strode into the inn. Everything in his demeanour, from the straightness of his outfits to the strong and shapely figure he cut proclaimed his sportsmanship. There was Quality. The landlord offered him some refreshment, excusing himself that the private parlour had already been bespoken.

“Oh, it is, is it?”

One of the perfectly arched eyebrows went up and the landlord reddened under the scrutiny.

“Maybe the young lady won’t mind…”

The landlord found himself quite at a loss to finish his sentence. Under the gentleman’s heavy eyelids anger had flashed in the dark gray eyes.

“Thank you, I will ask the… young lady myself, if you please.”

The landlord bit back an unwise answer and ushered the Corinthian in the private parlour, reflecting that he should have sensed that mischief was brewing when he had seen the young couple arrive. The man was by no means the young lady’s brother, but he was no mere lordling that could be denied entrance. The innkeeper sighed heavily and closed the door behind the dark gentleman.

As soon as the parlour’s door was opened, the Viscount’s quick eyes found the young lady seated by the window. She was gazing at the London road absently. Something in her attitude betrayed her wariness, but somehow her soft brown eyes looked as lively as ever and her complexion was none the worse for the journey. Her little chin lifted up in her proud way. He had to admit, she looked very becoming. Though she could not pretend to be a dashing beauty, for dark looks had gone quite out of fashion, she was striking in her own way, with a vivid personality and unaffected manners. Against all odds, she had taken the town by storm and the way her delicate face came to life when she talked or grew angry had put the loveliest damsels into shade. Even the fact that she was an heiress had not marred her promising debut. The Viscount clenched his fist at the thought, and walked slowly into the room. The smile on his face was cool and contemptuous.

As soon as she heard the footsteps, she turned her head and for a short moment something very much like relief shone in her eyes. But this was immediately replaced by coldness as understanding dawned on her. Disgust spread on his face as he looked at her shameless attitude. He had no wish to hide his feelings. After everything his parents had done for her, accepting the guardianship imposed on them by a long-forgotten friend, and introducing her to the very best society in London, she had still felt no shame in eloping with his rake of a cousin.

“My Lord Wentworth. You are here.”

“I am here, My Lady, though I have no wish to be, believe me.”

“I am sorry that you should have had to make such a distasteful journey,” she replied in a low trembling voice he recognized.

She gazed coolly at him, infuriating him further. His snubs had never failed to put any impertinent damsel into a blush, but from the very beginning she had shone no sign of wanting to comply with him and his sense of propriety. As the eldest son of her guardian, he had done his best to tolerate the spitfire girl, and had even disregarded her outrageous flirtations with his fortune-hunting cousin, thinking she was neither green nor so lost to propriety as to contemplate such a misalliance. It seemed he had been mistake. It took him all his will not to walk to her and shake some sense in her lovely, childish brown head.

“How could you be so shameless as to elope,” He asked, not sparing her blushes any longer.

“Maybe, she spoke with treacherous smoothness, anything is better than to be constantly in your cold and contemptuous company, My Lord.”

Miss Shaw turned her blazing eyes towards his Lordship, feeling her blood boil. He was just as bad as she had guessed he would be when she had caught the expression on his face. He thought her vulgar, capable of any improper acts. Anger blurred her vision, and for a few seconds she had to fight back tears. How she wished she could call him out for his contemptuous words!

“I am very sorry to see that you have come to such a dislike of my character,” he answered just as silkily as she had, but his gaze was lit up by a disturbing flame she had never seen before. “I shall nonetheless take my leave to inform you that you will not be married to Clifford before you come of age.”

Fury rose so violently in her belly she would have slapped him had she not been convinced he would add that to her many faults. Instead, hearing Clifford coming, she gave him a curt smile and steadied herself. For the whole journey she had wanted to run Clifford through for what he had dared put her through, and her only hope had been in the certainty that the Viscount would take them over before noon. But now she did not know which of the two was the wickedest, the vilest. They would both see if she could not fence for herself!

“My Lord, as you see your cousin has caught up with us and he says he will not let us marry.”

“Oh, will he not?”

The dandy levelled his quizzing-glass and stared at his cousin, a faint smile brushing his lips. Though she did not really care for Clifford’s quizzing-glass, the sick look on the Viscount almost redeemed her abductor.

“I think you shall have to fight if we are to resume our journey to the border,” she suggested with only a faint trace of hope in her voice.

His lordship laughed heartily.

“I find you blood-craved, Child. What has he done to infuriate you? You did not seem so eager to proceed a few moments ago.”

Her eyes blazed as harshly at the dandy as they had at the Viscount, but she knew by his lordship’s expression that Clifford’s words had not been wasted on him. His gaze flew to Sara’s face, and she blushed under the sudden intensity of his deep gray eyes.

For a short moment, the look reminded Sara of the happy weeks they had spent at Sherrington with his parents and his younger brother. She had almost begun to think him a friend, as he had taken her to ride everyday and had even helped her practice the waltz. But then, back in London, he had been as cold and as contemptuous as ever, and she had bitterly understood where she stood in the world. With his handsome dark looks, his title and his fortune, he was one of the most eligible of bachelors. She was only a country girl, tolerated because she was an heiress, but nonetheless looked upon with pity. She smiled bitterly at the word. An heiress. Suddenly she was tired and, even though she would have quite enjoyed seeing the gentlemen duel for the sake of her fortune, it was high time to end this nonsensical masquerade. Clifford had gone too far.

“My Lords, will you please listen to me before you set forth killing each other.”

She managed to smile, but kept her gaze focused on the window.

“There is no reason for you to fight, for I am not the heiress everyone supposed me to be.”

“What are you talking about, child,” Clifford asked with a dubious lift of one eyebrow.

The Viscount stood silent, staring intensely at Sara, not betraying any emotions. She shuddered, for she knew how he would welcome the news of the hoax. Though she was not responsible for it, he would still blame her.

“To speak the truth, my father left me without a penny. It was my Lord Sherrington’s notion not to utter a word on my circumstances to the world, and since he is my guardian I merely complied with his advice, though I now see I have acted very unwisely.”

Lord Clifford stared blankly at her, and she smiled her laughing smile at him. She could see on his face his mixed feelings: incredulity, annoyance at the pointlessness of his journey and good-natured amusement. Finally he bowed to Sara, smiling back into her eyes with a twinkle in his own.

“Miss Shaw, I shall go back to London this very moment, and leave you in the care of your guardian’s son.”

Then he added in a low voice, in response to her blazing eyes.

“Oh, Sara, it is just what you deserve for leading me on this dance! I hope you will enjoy the journey back. Wentworth, I'll meet you at Watier’s.”

On this light note, he left the inn. Only minutes later a curricle was seen taking the London road. The room remained silent. Sara did not trust herself to speak to his lordship. She was still in such a rage. Maybe, she thought, she should have waited for blood to be shed before unveiling the truth.

“As soon as I am of age, I will seek a post in a respectable house. I won’t trespass very much longer on your parent’s kindness,” she said stiffly. “So, will you be so kinds, My Lord, as to not remind me in the meantime of this awful masquerade.”

She did not lift her chin, but heard his lordship cross the short distance between them in a few strides.

“I won’t,” he said softly. “But you will not become a governess.”

She stared harshly into his dark eyes, wrath growing in her bosom once more.

“Oh, what will you have me be, My Lord, a milliner perhaps?”

His lordship's coldness and contempt had vanished, leaving place for warm amusement. As he looked at her, his little spitfire, she looked so much like a vengeful Greek deity he could not help but laugh.

“Since you are no longer a great heiress, I thought you might like to take care of my house,” he offered with a laugh spreading to his usually cold eyes.

He took her hand gently in his. Fury consumed her. How could he? How dared he?

“Oh, you’ll have me be a housekeeper?”

At this, his lordship burst out laughing, before giving her a look that drew an even deeper blush from her already reddened complexion. Suddenly she was at a loss. His grey eyes had been, from the very beginning, what she had been unable to handle.

“Oh, you little nonsensical spitfire! Do you think I could decently marry the heiress under my father’s guardianship?”

He kissed her roughly, and for the first time she realised that his harsh treatment of her might just be what would suit her character .

jeudi 27 novembre 2008

The Blue Bouquet - from another point of view

I woke covered with sweat. Although I couldn’t find sleep anymore, I remained lying on the hard, damp mattress, listening to the silence. Outside, the town was asleep, but I could feel her breathing, the very soft groaning of living beings dreaming together. The window was wide open. There was nothing between me and the outside night except an old mosquito net dangling from the window frame. The lack of streetlights made the room dark yet familiar, like an old coin in your pocket whose shape and touch you know without needing to see it. I finally rose up and crossed the room to the window, avoiding carefully the stool and the jar of water standing at the foot of the bed. I pushed aside the mosquito net and sat down, my back leaning against the window jamb. The air was slightly more fresh and breathable here. As I lit a cigarette, the moon suddenly appeared out of nowhere and showed me the bare street at my feet.

I smoked my cigarette slowly and silently, still listening to the sleepy town, then lit another one. The street was empty, except for a man coming from the plaza, walking quietly along the white crumbling wall. Then, all of a sudden, another man sprung out of the shadow of a porch. He looked rather small and fragile, and was wearing a palm sombrero. As he hurried to catch up with the first man, there was a flash of moonlight in his right hand. I held my breath as they both stopped walking, the short one facing the back of the other, who was standing without a movement. They were talking, but too softly for me to hear what they were saying. I imagined the fear of the tall one, the cold touch of the unknown weapon at his back, and hoped they wouldn’t see me staring at them.

Then the tall one turned around, and I clearly saw the large machete the short one was holding. To my surprise, the tall man lit a match and held it close to his eyes, looking as if he wanted to burn himself. The light made him squint, and the other one forced his eyelids open with two of his fingers, standing on tiptoe, with the threatening machete still in hand. The flame burned the fingers of the tall one and he dropped the match, leaving the moon as the only source of light. Then another match was struck, and the strange scene replayed itself. This time the one with the machete grabbed the other’s sleeve and forced him to kneel down, then brought his weapon close to the eyes of the man. For a split second I thought he was going to kill him, but then he had let him go and had vanished into the darkness, as if he had never been here at all. Alone in the dark street, leaning against the wall, the tall man was holding his head in his hands, stumbling and falling like a newborn. He staggered along the street, and then was gone too.

I lit another cigarette, listening to the silence.

mardi 25 novembre 2008


I wrote letters to my boyfriend every day while he was away. Love letters when I felt lonely, angry letters when I resented his absence, funny letters when I wanted to share a joke, passionate letters when I desired him.
When he came back, he told me that he hadn't read any of them, because my handwriting was unreadable.

dimanche 16 novembre 2008

Another friday night

Man's P.O.V.

Like every week at this hour, the metro was overcrowded. I had managed to occupy the last space remaining in the car at the previous station. I really could not afford to take the next train or else I would have been late for my train back home. Someone tried to push his way in after me and I was this close to kicking him. The heat inside the metro was unbearable. Outside it was snowing but here it felt more like the Sahara or rather some tropical forest. The man next to me _ maybe I should say below me providing how much packed together we were _ stinked horribly. I wondered how many days had passed since he last took a shower. I thought I would faint a few minutes later if I could not get farther away from him. I tried thinking about Mary that was waiting for me back home and the wonderful week end we would spend together. This was my only weekend off for about a month and it was the only thing I was thinking about for a week.
At last the door of the train was opening. I still had twenty minutes to get my ticket and step into the train. I took a few seconds to get myself together and concentrate on what was important. A ticket machine was free right in front of me, so I rushed to it and started entering my ticket information. A message appeared on the screen.
Due a to a central server error, it is impossible to retrieve your ticket from this machine. Please use the ticket office to retrieve your tickets.

This was not a big problem, as there was a booth over there with just one person. This should be very quick. The man before me appeared to be the slowest man in the whole world. I know this sounds like a cliché but this one really was a contender to the world title. When it took his wallet from his pocket, it looked like the super slow motion they show on TV during sports. Now he was starting to count his coins, but he had trouble seeing them, so it took him about ten seconds to find the right focal point where he could see clearly.
Excuse me sir, do you mind if I help you, I'm in a hurry, maybe I could help you with your coins...
Are you insinuating I am too old to be able to handle this on my own ? he replied while staring at me.
No sir, of course not, I'm just saying that ..
So please mind your own business and be a patient, he said with a remarkable confidence.
He may have been old and slow but he still looked very strong and I decided it was maybe not a good idea to continue this conversation. The anger was starting to grow inside of me and I didn't want to end up fighting an old man.

A few minutes later, the old man finally stepped away and I could start explaining my situation to the young woman inside the booth. A few meters away, a young black man was playing his guitar. I had no idea what he was playing or whether it was beautiful or not, because all I could hear was a noise that was preventing me from hearing her answers. I tried talking louder and louder, but I did not seem to work. The young woman remained calm and kept asking me the same question about some card that I still could not understand. At this time I was almost sure that I would miss my train, the last train going to Brugges this day.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. I don't remember what passed trough my head at this moment but I gave a large swing in the air with my elbow, hitting with a strength I did not know I had the man behind me. When I looked back, I realized I had hit a policeman that probably only wanted to tell me to be a little more quiet. On the distance, I saw his two colleagues running in my direction. My weekend was definitively ruined.

Woman's P.O.V.

By the window I could see the snow slowly falling on the city. I had been working inside this tiny booth for four hours, doing the same task again and again. I would just enter the information the client would give me, collect the money and give them the ticket. I don't know if it was due to the weather or to the beginning of the weekend but the clients were particularly ungrateful. I had already been insulted five times this day, even once in a language that I didn't know but was not very hard to understand what was meant. I had been working here for a month so I had become accustomed to this type of attitudes and I did not even react to this kind of provocation. Only the music of a young talented man playing Soul music with his guitar was helping me staying awake. He was playing here every Friday since I started working here and I really enjoyed hearing him.

I was helping a nice old man to buy his ticket to Paris. He told me that he was going there to meet some old friend he had not met for ten years, when he retired from his job as chief financial officer in a car company. You could see the years on his face but it was easy to see at first glance that he was still active and full of strength and dynamism.
While helping this man, my eyes were attracted to a middle-aged man that was trying to retrieve a ticket from a ticket machine. He couldn't stand in place and kept oscillating like a boat during a storm. His foot kept hitting the floor frenetically. He clearly was in a hurry and on the verge of becoming crazy of anger. He hit the machine, then looked around and ran to my booth.
I continued helping the old man to buy another ticket while keeping an eye on the other man as I had a bad feeling about him. He kept looking at his watch every ten seconds and doing some kind of dance like when you have an urgent need to pee, but in a much more violent and jerky way.

He started talking to the old man. I could not hear what they said of the window separating us but I suppose he was telling him to hurry up. The old man answered very firmly and went on as if nothing had happened. Behind him, the nervous man stepped backward and stayed there quiet for a few minutes, like a child punished by his parents. I finished helping the old man who kindly thanked me for my patience and complimented me.
As soon as he left the booth, the man rushed to the booth and started talking so fast that I almost did not understand what he wanted. I gently asked him to calm down and repeat slowly. He kept shouting louder and louder that he needed the ticket to Brugges he had bought trough the Internet. I tried asking him that I needed to see his reduction card to be able to give him his ticket. But it was almost useless as he never stopped talking. I made a small gesture to one of the policeman in the area asking for help, as I had no idea how to get out of this situation. I kept the same inexpressive face I had learned during my first month here because I was afraid that showing my fear would only make him angrier. I had see on Discovery channel that you should never show your fear to an angry animal and I don't know why but this is the first thing that popped into my mind.

The policeman put his hand on the man's shoulder to try to calm him down. The second he had done that, the man hit him directly in the face with his elbow, like a professional kick-boxer. I used the communication system to alert the other policemen in the area to come and neutralize the man. My boss told me to go home early because I had reacted the right away and avoided a bigger problem.

dimanche 9 novembre 2008

The parakeets

When my girlfriend told me she wanted a couple of parakeets, I first tried to deter her:
"We have already had two cats and a dog. No one has survived more than two months! "
After she explained me that parakeets do not usually try to cross the road, and that they would bring entertainment in our rather "gloomy" daily life, I had no other choice than to say yes.
I live with two parakeets now. They scream, they smell. On the week-end, my girlfriend insists for them to eat with us. Nothing makes her laugh more than seeing then eating in my plate.

mercredi 5 novembre 2008


My neighbour is very young to be living on his own. He can’t be more than seventeen, but I’ve never seen anyone enter his place. No friend, no family, no girl.
White skin, stormy eyes, something disturbing in his demeanour.
When I leave home, I see him stare at me through the dirty window. He never says a word though. When I come home, I hear his breathing in the dark corridor, but never his voice. One morning I tried to make contact.
“Hey you, in there!”
No answers. Just a blank look. Another day, I knock on the door.
“Wanna drop by and have lunch with me?”
I hear him lock his door. Ok then, I am the big bad she-wolf…
Sometimes, I lay on my bed, trying to understand his unnerving look, his weird loneliness. Why doesn’t he answer? I feel bad about him; I’ve felt cold and nervous since I moved in.
One night, I am on the balcony, having a smoke, watching the moon rise up slowly, as my fingers grow cold from the freezing air. And I hear him. Only a whisper, but clear, just as unnerving as the frozen look he gives me each day.
“I am cold,” he tells me.
For a short moment, I don’t know if I am dreaming, hearing things. I can’t see him on the balcony but I know it’s him.
“It is going to snow,” I answer softly.
“I wish I could see it.”
I don’t understand him, but I think he does not wish to be reached. My mind searches for him in the darkness.
“You will, I’m sure.”
There is nothing else I can answer. The snow will be down before dawn.
“I am cold,” he whispers once more.
I wonder who he is.

Next morning, the snow begins to fall. He is not at the window.

mardi 4 novembre 2008

The Edge

Roxanne embraces her sister with a shy smile, and lets her head rest on her shoulder while Juliana brushes her hair with her fingers. Releasing her sister from her arms, Juliana sits down and pats the couch, next to her, with a hollow smile.

JULIANA: Aren’t you tired, Rox? It must have been such a long day for you. When Mum called I almost did not answer… I was so frightened.
Roxanne smiles soothingly.
ROXANNE: I told you many times that everything would go smoothly. In fact, there was nothing to be anxious about. I defended myself, and explained how I did the only thing I could… They knew it, and came to the only possible verdict. Self-defence…
She runs her fingers against a bleaching scar at the base of her neck and gives a strange little laugh. Juliana, startled, shudders violently.
JULIANA (whispers): Nothing to be anxious about... Yes, you must be right. I guess I am too emotional.
Roxanne goes to the sofa and puts her arms around Juliana.
ROXANNE: Oh dear, dear, Juliana. Please look at me. It’s ok now, everything is over. Please! Don’t let yourself get distressed. I am ok! Look at me. I won’t go to jail and with the doctor’s help, I’ve begun to forget about that night… Those nightmares… are less and less powerful…
A small noise resembling a sob escapes Juliana’s throat.
JULIANA: Roxanne, I am so sorry, you are the one who had to undergo the whole thing and I am the one locking myself in my room to cry… I wish I were a better sister, or that you could forgive me… (She hides her face in her hands and starts sobbing silently.) But, Rox, if you knew… (sobs) If you knew how much I dreaded that they would not believe you… (sobs) If ever they found out…
ROXANNE (her eyes fixed on the wall behind Juliana, there is no emotion in her voice): Found out?
JULIANA: Oh, Rox, I can’t… I can’t… Please don’t ask me. I’ve wanted to die so much. (more sobs) And I feel so ashamed… I know I should not say this to you… I mean… I know you loved him although he tried to kill you… but I am so happy you killed him!
ROXANNE: (staring through the window with narrowed eyes): You must mean you are happy I did not let him slaughter me…

They keep silent for a few minutes, Juliana still sobbing, Roxanne lost in her contemplation of the street through the window. Suddenly Roxanne turns her attention back to her sister and smiles reassuringly.

ROXANNE: By the way, I did not love him, so you should not concern yourself with what happened or what unkind feelings you may have about him. When he turned violent, I simply valued my life more than his…
Juliana stops sobbing at these words.
JULIANA: You did not love him? Do you mean it?
ROXANNE: I do. Never loved him.
JULIANA (cold and troubled): Then why did you go out with him for so long? (She jumps to her feet) I.. I asked you to stop seeing him from the beginning ! I.. knew he was dangerous ! I…
She starts crying again. Roxanne stands to cradle her.
ROXANNE: Hush Ju, just forget about him, about the whole… You could have known nothing… Hush.
JULIANA (now on the verge of hysterics, Juliana disengages herself from Roxanne’s embrace): But, yes! I knew, Roxanne, I knew him well enough to wish him dead every day of my damned life, ever since…! (Roxanne stays silent, her gaze fixed upon her sister’s face.) He raped me, Roxanne! I could not tell you… I could not tell anyone... (she breathes heavily.) But I am glad you killed him, I wish I could have seen his face when he… (she starts crying again.)
ROXANNE (whispers through clenched teeth, strangely calm): Yes, I enjoyed it. He only got what he deserved, the bastard… Our only consolation is that he died in pain…(to her sister:)Now come, Juliana, he won’t hurt you anymore! I saw to that…
JULIANA (stares up): You saw to that? Rox! What can you mean by that? What the… You knew? All along !? Oh my…
She stumbles and falls on the couch, her hands fly to her face in stricken horror.
ROXANNE: Hush, Ju, don’t think about it…
JULIANA: But how…
ROXANNE: I saw him leave our house that day, and heard you crying later that night. In your dreams you even spoke about it once or twice. Happily, our parents sleep at the other end of the house. Now…
JULIANA: But if you knew… Oh my…Don’t tell me you did it on purpose! How could you go out with him when…
ROXANNE (a smile flutters for a few seconds on her face): Ju, I won’t tell you anything you don’t wish to hear. And honestly there is nothing to tell. Just what I told the police, he tried to kill me, stabbed me once but then I reached for a knife and struck first… He would have killed me otherwise.
JULIANA (fascinated): Did he beg for mercy?
ROXANNE: There was no time for that. Only one strike, but that was enough to put him down.
JULIANA: Didn’t he say anything before he died?
ROXANNE: Oh, he felt quite betrayed, I suppose. He tried to mumble something… I can’t remember. But at the end, his look was so distressed that I almost took pity on him. Not that it would have changed anything, though…
JULIANA: Did he bleed hard?
ROXANNE (with a weird smile): Yeah, lovely red on the white carpet, but the smell was quite nauseating.
JULIANA: Rox, you’re frightening.
ROXANNE: Just kidding. You’re the one asking sordid questions… (Then after a few moments’ reflection she goes on:) I only had a short while to see the light fade in his eyes, and then I collapsed. I had lost a lot of blood, too. But yeah, I saw it. The fear in his eyes…
JULIANA: I wish you’d strangled him.
ROXANNE (laughs): It would have been quite difficult to choke him to death and plead self-defence.
JULIANA: But how did you…
ROXANNE: I told him I knew about what he had done to you, and that I would tell the police. It was quite easy to pick a fight with him, to provoke him. Then I grabbed one of the knives and told him not to come near me. That was enough to put the seed in his mind, so he took the other knife, and I let him stab me. But then I got to his throat. He was a bit drunk. I’d waited for the right moment, you see. And I’ve always been strong. He never thought I would struggle.
JULIANA: Rox, you should never have…
ROXANNE (suddenly wrathful): Shouldn’t have? After what he’d done to you! How can you be so unfeeling as to tell me something like that? Ju, what would you have me do? (Tears run down her cheeks. Juliana cradles her gently). This was the only way… The only way to relieve you… I didn’t want to keep looking into your hollow eyes. I wanted you back, feeling better, feeling something at least! I knew that this could make you feel something, if nothing else could.
JULIANA: No, I’m sorry, Roxanne. I meant, it was not worth taking so many risks! You could have died, you could have gone to jail for the rest of your life… I didn’t want to hurt you Roxanne… You’re my little sister. I should take better care of you…
ROXANNE (stops crying): Then you are not angry with me? I did what I could to make things better. And I did it well: nobody will ever suspect anything now, because I’m the only one who knows what happened… We are both freed from all this. Nobody will ever know the truth.
JULIANA (smiles): No, they won’t, for I shall never breathe a word of this to anyone. Never…
The sisters fall into each others arms, Juliana with a sigh of relief, Roxanne with a giggle recalling that of a small child.

dimanche 2 novembre 2008


Girls are very jealous. They always want to be the only one. So the first thing I did was to find them a field where I could say they were the best and the only one. I had the funniest girl in the world, the cutest one and the sweetest one and so on. The thing is they didn’t want me to see other girls. They were so jealous they told me they would kill me. One day I switched name between two girlfriends and now I’m in Hell. But you know what, polygamy isn’t forbidden here !


My girlfriend was the most beautiful girl I can imagine, she was so perfect I couldn’t find the smallest flaw in her. I wanted her forever so I bought her a golden ring. By the fire one night I kneeled in front of and showed her the ring. She looked at the precious stone, she froze one second and told me :
“This one is too small, I thought you loved me more.”
She married a guy who could buy her the world.