The Language Mix/ a cute little story

John Lina
Fr 313
Devoirs pour mercredi, le 9e mars
One day, the good professor and bon vivant, Monsieur Beavei, decided to take his wife to get something to eat. Although he had carte blanche to go to any restaurant in New York City, he decided to go to Sardis. The professor is very important so he sent a courier in advance to arrange a table for two at two.
The restaurant is well known and filled with art deco pieces. On this particular day the menu was in calligraphy and difficult to read; the words seemed to be camouflaged on the page. Because of this they decided to order an aperitif and then a la carte from the menu to avoid any mistakes. Madame Beavei was particularly fond of the potatoes au gratin at Sardis.
The maitre d’ came to the table and was very upset with Madame Beavei. He said, “But Madame! Clothing is required.” You see, when she removed her coat the Madame was au naturel. The maitre d’ bundled her back into her coat, took the Professor and his wife, each by the arm, put them out the back door into an alley full of debris and pushed them on their way.
Madame Beavei said to her husband, “Do you remember the last time we went there? I wore denim and the results were the same.”

Bravado

Many cemeteries in little towns in southern Germany had a large wooden cross in the middle. Bert told this story as true.

Three of them in the bar
One boasting

I am afraid of nothing
Especially your ghosts

I’m sorry boys it’s midnight
You’ll have to go I’m closed

Cold winter was nigh
As they stood in the street

Dark as pitch
No moon was out

Let’s walk, it’s cold
And they noisily set off

Afraid of nothing you say
We can see if it’s true

Stop at my tool shed
For a hammer and nail

To the gate of the cemetery
They ushered their hero

Go hammer this nail
Into the cross in the center

He gulped in his throat
But held up his bargain

And into the blackness
Walked the carpenter

The witnesses listened
The nailing began

One, two, three, four, five
Enough, then Aieeee!

All was silent
In the dark cemetery

Gripped in fear
They spoke not to each other

But waited for dawn
They weren’t as brave

Then they slowly crept in
To find their dead victim

Hung by the nail
Through his coat sleeve

Frozen on his face
Was the horror of fright?