Thank you Andunewen and Lotr-junkie, you´ve encouraged me to go on with
this (strange) fanfic. You are wonderful! The end of the previous chapter
was maybe too irritating, but "I hope you dont mind...". Why do I always
keep quoteing lines from the Moulin Rouge?! It´s because I´m so crazy about
it, I think. Moulin Rouge is my drug, and The Lord of the Rings too, of
course.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ I couldn´t say anything like: "Hey, I haven´t drunk my coffee yet!" or "I don´t wanna run after dinner!" because Toulouse was having so hurry to show me something "what kind you´ve ever seen". We ran among people, who were walking slowly or standing and talking to each other. Again, I tried to avoid them as much as possible. Now I didn´t crash into anybody, fortunately.
When we got to our destination, I was so tired and winded that I could hardly breath. The "race" seemed to be nothing to Toulouse. "Are you some kind of a competition runner, or what? And why do you both, you and Christian, have to run me all over around the town?! " I asked still puffing. Two race runnings in a day was too much for me.
Toulouse smiled. "I´ve just been practising," he said. I realized that because they don´t have cars, they use foots and bikes instead. That would do great for me. And to everybody. People have become too lazy, because we don´t need to use our foots anywhere. Even bills can be paid by sitting nowadays. And walking and bicycling is nicer to nature. As I was thinking my inflammatory speech to the human race, Toulouse was opening the lock of the door with his keys. "Come on in," he requested me and opened the door.
There was dark inside and Toulouse lighted a kerosene lamp. "Look out the threshold, it´s very high," he said. It wasn´t so high, but maybe it is high to a midget. I looked around me and saw lots of paintings. "Are these all yours?" I asked while I was walking further. Paintings were very fine.
"Yes, they are. And welcome to my `centre of the art´! Sorry about this mess, but I don´t usually bring guests here, only Christian has seen this before," Toulouse said regretting.
Toulouse wasn´t exaggerating. There was quite a bad chaos in the room, Empty colour tubes, broken brushes, soiled and crumpled papers and empty absinth bottles were lying everywhere on the floor. But I didn´t say anything because my room looks kind of the same, except when I have had a itch for cleaning. And because Toulouse is a bohemian artist. "I know the artists," I just said and Toulouse nodded accepting.
There was about ten or twelve paintings, some of them were ready and some still half-finished. Though I don´t know much of the art, I think those pictures were very professional. There were ordinary people in them, people sitting in cafés, people walking and talking. There were many paintings of dancing women. Two of the paintings were like directly from the Moulin Rouge-movie. "Are these from... Moulin Rouge?" I asked staring at the other one, which was portraying can-can dancers with their amazing movements.
"Yeah, so you know the place?" Toulouse asked interested.
"Emm... I´ve heard about it. But I´ve never been there. Is it so great like they talk?" I had thought about that when I had watched Moulin Rouge at home.
"Yees, and more! Music, lights, dancing! It´s a experience everyone must to undergo once in their life! I can come with you if you want to see it," Toulouse said with enthusiasm. Then he continued: "I guess, you don´t live here in Paris?"
"No, and not in France," I said concentrating to picture which had captured a party of fine-dressed people chatting. "I think these paintings are wonderful! Do you sell them?"
Toulouse shook his head. "I don´t know who would buy them. You see, I don´t really know these `snob-people´, if you know what I mean."
I smiled at him. "If I had enough money, I´d buy one right away!" An original painting from the end of the 19th century would look good on my wall.
"You can have one! The one you like so much," Toulouse said.
I shook my head. "No, I can´t take it. I don´t mean that I don´t like them, but..." I appreciated Toulouse´s gesticulation, but I couldn´t take his works of art without paying.
"It´s a gift from a friend!" Toulouse tried.
"But I don´t even have a wall to put it on. I am still searching for a flat." It was a little white lie, but in this case necessary.
Toulouse wrinkled his forehead. "Then we´ll have to find you a one. I´ll ask someone if he knows any rented flats. And where were you going to stay over the night?" he asked.
"I was thinking a hotel or motel..." I said slowly.
"You can sleep in my place," Toulouse said so quickly, that I couldn´t end my sentence.
I sighed. He was so sweet. "You´re too nice for me. We hardly know each other!"
"I know you good enough. I´m a good people-expert, and I know you´re a good person," Toulouse said saddenly seriously. "And besides, haven´t you been taught that refusing from a friend´s offer isn´t one of the good manners..."
"Ok, you convinced me!" I laughed. "But I´ll pay you something when I´ll get a job."
"Yes, yes," Toulouse said like he wouldn´t had taken me seriously. "Hey, we´ll have to celebrate our new friendship!" He digged a cigar from his pocket and lighted it. He took one breath and asked: "Would you like some?"
I was thinking to refuse, but Kelly - that´s my other name and my other, not so boring person who was taking an order in my mind (no, I´m not a psycho...) - wanted to take the opportunity. "Ok, but just one breath, because I don´t want to have a cancer or something and die," I said (Sara was coming...). Toulouse looked a bit surprised and lighted another. Maybe the enlightenment about smoking was not so good in the 19th century...
I tasted the cancer-bar, which tasted like you would have eaten an old dirty sock, when I suddenly heard somebody saying: "Do you know, women look kind of sexy when they´re smoking cigars."
I coughed and looked where the sound was heard. Christian was standing at the door. "I could take too," he said.
"You can have mine," I said and handed it to Christian. He took one long breath.
"So, how was the interview? Did you get the job?" Toulouse asked after a long uneasy silence.
"Like a hell! Duke was the owner of the place and also the interviewer. So I just told him to go to hell and took off!" Christian said. He was drunk like a cuckoo.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ That was kind of a weird place to stop, but I am weird... *sings ´Come what may´ and writes in madness* Tell me what you like!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ I couldn´t say anything like: "Hey, I haven´t drunk my coffee yet!" or "I don´t wanna run after dinner!" because Toulouse was having so hurry to show me something "what kind you´ve ever seen". We ran among people, who were walking slowly or standing and talking to each other. Again, I tried to avoid them as much as possible. Now I didn´t crash into anybody, fortunately.
When we got to our destination, I was so tired and winded that I could hardly breath. The "race" seemed to be nothing to Toulouse. "Are you some kind of a competition runner, or what? And why do you both, you and Christian, have to run me all over around the town?! " I asked still puffing. Two race runnings in a day was too much for me.
Toulouse smiled. "I´ve just been practising," he said. I realized that because they don´t have cars, they use foots and bikes instead. That would do great for me. And to everybody. People have become too lazy, because we don´t need to use our foots anywhere. Even bills can be paid by sitting nowadays. And walking and bicycling is nicer to nature. As I was thinking my inflammatory speech to the human race, Toulouse was opening the lock of the door with his keys. "Come on in," he requested me and opened the door.
There was dark inside and Toulouse lighted a kerosene lamp. "Look out the threshold, it´s very high," he said. It wasn´t so high, but maybe it is high to a midget. I looked around me and saw lots of paintings. "Are these all yours?" I asked while I was walking further. Paintings were very fine.
"Yes, they are. And welcome to my `centre of the art´! Sorry about this mess, but I don´t usually bring guests here, only Christian has seen this before," Toulouse said regretting.
Toulouse wasn´t exaggerating. There was quite a bad chaos in the room, Empty colour tubes, broken brushes, soiled and crumpled papers and empty absinth bottles were lying everywhere on the floor. But I didn´t say anything because my room looks kind of the same, except when I have had a itch for cleaning. And because Toulouse is a bohemian artist. "I know the artists," I just said and Toulouse nodded accepting.
There was about ten or twelve paintings, some of them were ready and some still half-finished. Though I don´t know much of the art, I think those pictures were very professional. There were ordinary people in them, people sitting in cafés, people walking and talking. There were many paintings of dancing women. Two of the paintings were like directly from the Moulin Rouge-movie. "Are these from... Moulin Rouge?" I asked staring at the other one, which was portraying can-can dancers with their amazing movements.
"Yeah, so you know the place?" Toulouse asked interested.
"Emm... I´ve heard about it. But I´ve never been there. Is it so great like they talk?" I had thought about that when I had watched Moulin Rouge at home.
"Yees, and more! Music, lights, dancing! It´s a experience everyone must to undergo once in their life! I can come with you if you want to see it," Toulouse said with enthusiasm. Then he continued: "I guess, you don´t live here in Paris?"
"No, and not in France," I said concentrating to picture which had captured a party of fine-dressed people chatting. "I think these paintings are wonderful! Do you sell them?"
Toulouse shook his head. "I don´t know who would buy them. You see, I don´t really know these `snob-people´, if you know what I mean."
I smiled at him. "If I had enough money, I´d buy one right away!" An original painting from the end of the 19th century would look good on my wall.
"You can have one! The one you like so much," Toulouse said.
I shook my head. "No, I can´t take it. I don´t mean that I don´t like them, but..." I appreciated Toulouse´s gesticulation, but I couldn´t take his works of art without paying.
"It´s a gift from a friend!" Toulouse tried.
"But I don´t even have a wall to put it on. I am still searching for a flat." It was a little white lie, but in this case necessary.
Toulouse wrinkled his forehead. "Then we´ll have to find you a one. I´ll ask someone if he knows any rented flats. And where were you going to stay over the night?" he asked.
"I was thinking a hotel or motel..." I said slowly.
"You can sleep in my place," Toulouse said so quickly, that I couldn´t end my sentence.
I sighed. He was so sweet. "You´re too nice for me. We hardly know each other!"
"I know you good enough. I´m a good people-expert, and I know you´re a good person," Toulouse said saddenly seriously. "And besides, haven´t you been taught that refusing from a friend´s offer isn´t one of the good manners..."
"Ok, you convinced me!" I laughed. "But I´ll pay you something when I´ll get a job."
"Yes, yes," Toulouse said like he wouldn´t had taken me seriously. "Hey, we´ll have to celebrate our new friendship!" He digged a cigar from his pocket and lighted it. He took one breath and asked: "Would you like some?"
I was thinking to refuse, but Kelly - that´s my other name and my other, not so boring person who was taking an order in my mind (no, I´m not a psycho...) - wanted to take the opportunity. "Ok, but just one breath, because I don´t want to have a cancer or something and die," I said (Sara was coming...). Toulouse looked a bit surprised and lighted another. Maybe the enlightenment about smoking was not so good in the 19th century...
I tasted the cancer-bar, which tasted like you would have eaten an old dirty sock, when I suddenly heard somebody saying: "Do you know, women look kind of sexy when they´re smoking cigars."
I coughed and looked where the sound was heard. Christian was standing at the door. "I could take too," he said.
"You can have mine," I said and handed it to Christian. He took one long breath.
"So, how was the interview? Did you get the job?" Toulouse asked after a long uneasy silence.
"Like a hell! Duke was the owner of the place and also the interviewer. So I just told him to go to hell and took off!" Christian said. He was drunk like a cuckoo.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ That was kind of a weird place to stop, but I am weird... *sings ´Come what may´ and writes in madness* Tell me what you like!