Tag Archives: wild sex

The Frenchman Who Abandoned Me (Updated)

This blog was originally posted on MySpace October 3, 2008. It was my submission to the now defunct Group Blogging Experience (GBE). The hostess, Alicia, would suggest a word each week, and participants would define the word with stories, photos, poems, etc. The blogs were linked by Alicia, and new friendships were formed.
An update to this story has been added at the bottom. Thanks for reading!

We hired a carpenter.

Not really him.

He’s french.

Not too stereotypical.

He has done work for us in the past.

Mantel, tiled fireplace, entertainment center, and bar.

Yesterday he swung by the house to begin installing our new entertainment center. All the pieces were brought into the room. We thought, in a few hours, everything would be in place. But no. He had to go pick up his son, and promised to be back.

Don't believe him.

Hours passed. He did not return.
His son called.

You did not know I was so fluent in French.

Mon Dieu! No, we don’t know where your father is.
Then his cat phoned.

Have you ever tried consoling a cat over the phone?

Day turned into night. The carpenter never returned.
If anyone can read these plans…

Zee plans.

… and figure out how to complete the project…

Install the secret door so we can hide behind the t.v.

… we would be forever grateful.
F.Y.I. ~ The last time he abandoned the project, we found him in front of a slot machine.

Sacre Bleu! You 'ave found me!


UPDATE 02/20/10: The Frenchman professed to being pulled away by a family emergency so secretive even his own son and cat were not made aware of it. I still see him from time to time, wandering the grocery store in his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, chest hair wild and unkempt in stark contrast to his precisely-groomed mustache. I imagine him muttering under his breath, “Zere iz zee beach ooh scorned moi.”, but thankfully he doesn’t notice me.
My husband trolled a local bar for a cheap replacement who would finish the job for cash. After much coaxing, he finally found a taker, and our entertainment center was completed. The secret door allowing access to the space behind the t.v. was never installed, bursting my dreams of hiding from the children and having wild sex with the television blaring. Or maybe just hiding from the children and sitting quietly in the corner.

Completed but not the ultimate hiding place.

• Has a Frenchman ever let you down?
• Do you take part in blogging groups?
• Where do you hide from the children?


Filed under Humor