Wrong on Many Levels

Past Imperfect – #524

Awkwardly-Clingy ticket-taker at the Toulouse-Lautrec Metro Station in Paris: “Madamoiselle, I don’t know why you felt compelled to leap over the turnstile whilst bellowing something in Swedish, but I can’t have you running amok in the bowels of this city without acknowledging fair trade agreements. It’s anarchy!”

PETA-defying Greta: “Let go of me, you Soviet gym teacher. I simply must be on the next train to Montmartre or Salvador Dali will produce a sculpture of my personal landing pad that will be unflattering in an asexual but shockingly sexist way.”

Ticket-Taker: “I have no idea what you just said, so it must be above my pay grade, but I cannot let you board the Metro unless you have purchased a ticket. By the way, we don’t call them trains, we call them metro cars.”

Greta: “It’s idiotic statements like that which explain why your country surrenders within two seconds of a war being started.”

Ticket-Taker: “I must take offense!”

Greta: “And I must take the train to Montmartre.”

Ticket-Taker: “I refuse to allow your aggressive behavior to dominate my lifestyle.”

Greta: “What? Do you really think it’s necessary to turn this situation into a proclamation about the latent lesbianism you haven’t discussed with your clueless husband?”

Ticket-Taker: “How in the world did you get there from here?”

Greta: “Let’s just say that I’ve visited every station on this line, multiple times, and if I’ve learned nothing else I’ve surmised that most people are in denial about what they truly want. Since I don’t have a lot of free time, I like to get to the point as soon as possible, especially when dealing with people that I don’t really care about. Let your love fly, like a bird on a wing.”

Ticket-Taker: “Oh, glory be. I find myself in the midst of a powerful personal revelation as you speak such wise and wonderful words.”

Greta: “No, I speak of a Bellamy Brothers song that won’t be released for another fifty years. Now, unhand me, Nikita, so I can rush forth and stop Salvador from denigrating my hoo-hoo in Italian marble.”


12 replies »

  1. Ticket Taker aka Practitioner of the Love that Dare Not Speak It’s Name: Alas Madame that pesky business of a TICKET is still at issue here. Regardless of the luke-warm moments we have shared. I say. Do you feel faint? Your skin tone and those bags under your eyes bespeak serious illness or at least fatigue. Here – use this oddly placed sitting room chair and rest a wee and I shall whisper love sonnets in your shell like ear…” sings softly:

    Alouette, gentille alouette,
    Alouette, je te plumerai.


    Claudette nee Greta Garbo: What is this talk of larks and plucking? Madame I assure you I do not welcome plucking unless it’s by now obscure artists who are immortalizing me in clay and paint and will in the future be worth millions..besides I VANT TO BE ALONE dammit.

    Ticket taker (crushed now) … Oui madame, you go ahead and fly. The ticket will be taken care of and I shall cherish our long moment petit together…

    Liked by 1 person

    • There is SO much going on in this comment that yearns for deeper introspection, but no matter how hard I try to keep going forward, I unavoidably return to the “Alouette” snippet. I am transfixed by the brilliance, seriously, and everything else fades as I contemplate. You should win awards for this. No really, you should… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.