Wednesday, March 19, 2014
L'Ascenseur de Paris
Albee had been living in Paris that summer, working for L'Etoile and staying in a rather shabby pensionne. It was seven flights up and down every day but Albee loved Paris so he hardly minded.
"What is that, Madame Le Fouquet?" he had asked when he moved in, pointing to the metal cage suspended by wires between floors.
"Oh, cette chose, Monsieur?" answered his new landlady. "It hardly works, a little bit de temps en temps. Forget it."
And so Albee forgot it until one very hot day just before his internship was about to expire, Albee returned to the pensionne exhausted. Unable to face the stairs, he climbed into the cage and began pushing buttons.
"Madame Le Fouquet, what is this?!!" he cried out. "The walls are closing in on this elevator!"
"Ce n'es pas un ascenseur, Monsieur Albee! shouted the landlady. "It is a giant electronique cheese grater! Don't forget, c'etait France!"
I thought maybe going a little cosmopolitan might help boost my Friday Fictioneers readership this week, especially after bombing royally in last week's effort to make a link to a Beatles' song the capper to my post.
That's why this week, folks, we're all wearing turtlenecks and sipping wine in a cafe in response to the picture prompt, courtesy of Nouveau Old Formerly Cute. What's not to love here? Where will the elevator or stairway above take you when it comes to the other Friday Fictioneers? Cliquez ici pour en savoir.
Now, pardon me, I have to get Albee out of the cheese grater before he winds up atop a Ritz Cracker.