I promised. I swore that I wouldn’t write anything else until I had the first draft of my Tales From the Archives short story finished, but I can’t stop myself. Actually, I can’t stop the little French voice that keeps popping up in my thoughts. If you read my original Knee’d I Say More? Probably not piece then you know about my little habit of
hearing writing the thoughts of inanimate objects. I am merely the vehicle- the medium that they use to communicate so I cannot turn them away. John Edwards speaks for those that have passed. I speak for those that…well, I’m not sure, but anyway, Angelina’s knee apparently has more to say and I’m hoping that if I just let him get this off his chest, he’ll shut up and let me get back to work. So here it is; forgive me and remember that I am merely the messenger.
** Insert bad French accent here.
“Bonjour, little people. It iz me again, Right Knee. You have mizzed me, I can see it in your sad, sad eyes. But no fear, I am back and here to assure you all zat I am still az magnifique az ever. Pourquoi? Why would someone as spectacular az moi, need to do this? because there haz been a little intruder lately trying to declare she iz zee new special one. Oh, do not pretend you do not know who I speak of. You know who it iz and it iz my duty to warn you not to fall to her temptress ways.
“Left Ring-finger. Oui, you know it iz true. Little men hide in zee bushes and zee trash bins trying to get zee picture of her like she iz zee Brigette Bardot…or me. But it iz not because she iz az magnifique az me. Non! It iz because zee Brad Pitt haz given her a shiny, new, haute couture foulard to wear around her bony neck. And she pretends to be so shy. “No! No! Please no pictures. I only want my privacy.” C’est des conneries!! She iz no shrinking violet! She iz no shy lady! She iz a trickster. A hell-hound, and I owe it to my admiring public to tell them zee truth.
“First, you must know zat she was not zee first choice to wear zee symbol of zee undying amour of zee Brad and Angie. Non. It was me. Oui, it iz true. I am zee most admired representative– zee most refined and their greatest confidant. It was a natural choice zat I should wear zee ring. But zee Brad became worried zat zee constant wearing of a band around my throat would chafe my delicate skin…and his. Zen there was zee talk zat I would wear a tattoo as a permanent, blood and ink, symbol of zee union. Angie was prepared for this choice. She hired zee little chief man from zee Samoan village to bring his rusty nails and squid ink, and I stood like a good soldier, prepared to endure zee pain (must I remind you of zee rug burns?); but in zee end, they could not do it. They could not ruin my beautiful complexion. So we went back to zee consideration of making a band for me to wear. But many Africans would be maimed to have enough diamonds to make a band of zat size. Zee Brad and Angie fight for zee world peace. They could not do this! And zat iz when Left Ring-finger swooped in and showed off her petite waist. “Oh, look at me. Look how tiny I am.” Zee crafty little salope.
“So now zee public thinks she iz so special, but she iz not. I have known her for a very long time and I am here to tell you not to be fooled by zee diamond scarf she wears. She iz not worthy of zat frock. I have seen what she haz done in zee dark. Oh, oui, I have seen. When I have gotten zee rug burn there were things she did. Things zat would make zee girls of Pigalle blush. But she did not blush! Not even when zee Brad Pitt looked frightened for his life. And I am not even mentioning those other times…those dark times with zee Billy Bob! Oh, I can not think of it. There iz not enough vin in Bordeaux to extinguish those memories.
“Oh, I see you cringe too, but there iz more and it iz my duty to continue. We must talk about Mademoiselle Ring-finger’s more “domestic” duties. I have seen her change zee diapers. There iz this thing zee American moms call zee “blow-out”. Have you ever seen one of these? They are tres horrible. They are zee stuff of nightmares. They are zee stories of Normandy Beach told to me by mon grand-père. There are 6 little beings in our home zat have all made zee blow-outs and I have seen how Ring-finger acts. She smiles az if she enjoys zee smell of putrid merde. It iz like she iz a pig wallowing in a pen of mud. And sometimes her fingernail iz not always completely clean and zen zee rest of us are made to suffer. Zee filthy putain!!…Oh, pardon moi…I must not stoop to her level. I must calm myself. I will have a glass of vin and rub myself with zee Oscar…Ahhh…now, back to zee dirty business at hand (not a stupid pun).
“So, Left Ring-finger may continue to dance about in her glittery costume like one of zee girls of zee Moulin Rouge, but we see what she really iz- a haggard, bony, talentless…Oh, there I go again. One more glass of vin…what was I saying? Zee wedding day. Yes, zee wedding day. She may think she will be zee star, but it iz not true. I am zee maid of honor and be rest assured zat I will be smiling from zee giant split in zee custom-designed gown even if I must chew my way out (my brother Left Knee will help as he always carries a knife). And for zee honeymoon frolics in zee ocean, zee ring will be removed from Ring-finger and she will be nothing once again. But not me; I will be displayed to all, and once again there will be no question about how magnifique I truly am.
“And until zat day I have made alliances. Oui! Left Knee, Right Foot, zee Buttocks Twins, Left Breast, and all zee brothers and sisters of Right Hand have joined together to keep an eye on Ring-finger. Do you hear zat Ring-finger? We are watching you and right now I want you to watch us az we will show you exactly what we think of your little circus act. Are you watching? Pay close attention.
“Now, Right Middle-finger!!! Stand tall and proud as a symbol of our union against zee filthy ways of Left Ring-finger. Do you see zat? Well, remember zat and think hard about zee next time you are hanging from zee bridge for a movie and you need zee help of Right Hand. And remember your ways zee next time there iz a blow-out and suddenly all of your sister fingers are paralyzed. You will be all alone, buried to your knuckles in pooh and zee haunting memories of zat night with Billy Bob and zee marshmallow cream…Oh, I went too far!!…Vin! More vin!! Yes…better… As I was saying…Enjoy your moment while you can, Mademoiselle Ring-finger, because it will be short– short and pathetic like zee career of zee Megan Fox. Au revoir, Ring-finger…au revoir.”
** Once again, no French people, fingers, or knees were hurt in the writing of this blog…but many were offended. As for Brangelina, they really don’t give a flying merde…but Billy Bob might. C’est la vie.