So it's 2am in the morning and I'm on my way home to my studio in the 6th, having had a last drink at the Web Bar (3rd) and I'm a bit hungry. In the 6th you can buy donna kebabs (sandwich grec) till about 2.30am and one default is that they come with chips (frites). And you can buy the chips separately. Many of these places have shop front counters, so I'm standing in the street and there's a couple of french guys in front of me and the nightmare (cauchemar) commences with the Mental Giant Selling Kebabs:
Boyd:
Some chips please
Des frites, s'il vous plait?
MGSK:
There aren't any more of them.
Il n'y en a plus.
[being right in the middle of cooking the next batch]
Boyd:
What's that stuff there? [pointing at the chips]
Qu'est ce-que ce que ca?
MGSK:
You have to buy a real sandwich.
Vous devez acheter un vrai sandwich.
Boyd:
Ok, I'll buy a kebab, and I'll throw it away so I can have the chips.
D'accord, je vais acheter un sandwich grec et je vais le jeter, pour avoir les frites.
MGSK:
[no response, not even eye contact]
Boyd:
You like pissing people off, right?
Tu aime faire chier, c'est ca?
MGSK:
[no response, not even eye contact]
Boyd:
[departs, ready to kill someone]
I bought some further down the street.
© 1996, Boyd Roberts: boyd@planete.net