glimmer glimmer Authorly intervention! KWAPING!
Replies to comments:
xlawa- why do you twitch do? ;;
tres-awesome- Aw...thank you. You might have to wait a little longer for Sophie though. Sorry!
deathmedic- Yey! I show promise. That's more that what the guidance counselors say about me...ANYway...yeah, the french is gonna be a running joke. Jest because sometimes I felt like I had to be bi-lingual to read that book.
...then the author started typing again. "Dance for me, my puppets!" she shouted, a maniacal expression twisting her features.
"That was kinda...different." said Langdon. Shaking off the odd feeling, he turned to the commissioner. "Should we head over to the crime scene now?" he asked. The commissioner blinked, as though he has been suddenly pulled from a waking dream, "...crime scene? Yeah...how about you lead the way."
Puzzled, Langdon walked back down the hallway, until he came to a smaller hall which was mostly blocked off by a gate. The gate was threaded with copious amounts of yellow caution tape, as well as a few inexplicable bands of Christmas lights. Langdon looked at the commissioner curiously, "Now what?" The commissioner, who seemed to have remembered what he was doing, said "Hold on. Let me talk to my boys." Crouching near the floor, he shouted, "Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?" under the gate. This question was met by a few hurried replied in French. The commissioner stood, nodding, "Right! They say it's okay for you to come in."
Langdon blinked, "And...how?" he asked, fearing the answer would cause him much grievous humiliation. The commissioner grinned wickedly, "Under the gate of course. I'm sure you can fit." Langdon did not share the commissioner's faith. The space between the grate and the floor was very small indeed. Luckily, Langdon had been in situations like that before, and since then, he always traveled prepared. Langdon whipped out a stick of butter, and rubbed down the underside of the gate and the floor. With everything coated oh so greasily, there is no way I can get stuck in a comical and embarrassing way! Thought Langdon in triumph. However, all the butter in the world could not keep him from simply being too fat to fit under the gate. Langdon got stuck halfway under the gate, with his feet sticking into the crime scene and his face staring up at the grinning commissioner.
Langdon muttered something quietly. "What's that? Sorry, I didn't hear you." the commissioner said with glee. "Can you help me a little here? I'm stuck." repeated Langdon, sounding almost as mortified as he felt. After spending a good five minutes laughing himself sick, the commissioner finally kicked Lagdon in the head. The force of the blow caused Langdon to slip under the gate much in the same way a watermelon seed shoots out between two fingers when pinched. Needless to say, the effect was very comical and embarrassing. Still laughing, the police commissioner slipped much more easily under the gate.
As he stood, butter stained and extremely red in the face, Langdon got a good look at the corpse which he had seen in miniature on film. Langdon had hoped that it would be less gross in real life. It wasn't. Quickly, Langdon turned around and threw up again, this time in a bucket placed nearby labeled, 'Pour le loster faible au barf dedans.'. The French Police watched as Langdon was reacquainted with his dinner, lunch, breakfast and a midnight snack in that order. When he was done barfing in the bucket, Langdon turned around calmly and asked, "What do you need me to do?"
One of the officers present was an Overworked Intern, who had been hunched carefully over a sketchbook for the greater part of an hour before she was distracted by Langdon's spectacular upchucking. The commissioner had given her the utterly useless task of drawing the crime scene...using eclair filling to do the picture. As she worked faithful on her sketch, she had the strangest urge to sing 'Bad Day', though she wasn't sure why. Every time Overworked Intern asked the commissioner about why she had to do a sketch using food, he began muttering dangerously and fingering his police baton. Overworked Intern decided it was some fetish of the commissioner's, and the less she know about it, the better.
Suddenly, Dan Brown popped up, eyes rolling and limbs flailing, "You!" he shrieked at Overworked Intern, "You're a non-corrupt, non-bigoted Roman Catholic! DIE!" Dan Brown fired a few hasty shots, though he only managed to glaze the nimble intern's leg. Fleeing for her life, the intern rapidly abandoned the crime scene, though not before heartily flicking Dan Brown off.
Completing ignoring the firefight which had occurred just behind them, Langdon and the French Police craned their necks over the dead body. Jacques Sauniere had stripped himself naked before he had died, and drawn a strange symbol on his chest with his own blood. Unfortunately, he had attempted to draw on his copious amounts of chest hair, so the picture had not turned out very well. Using a Rose Art pen, Jacques Sauniere had scribbled a large shape around his body, though it was difficult to tell what shape it was supposed to be, exactly. Despite his great love for art, Jacques Sauniere was not a very good artist himself. In all honesty, he sucked pretty bad.
"So! What does it all mean?" asked the commissioner cheerily as he began munching on a croissant. Langdon poked the body tentatively with a toe, "Well...it looks like he tried to draw a pentagram on his chest...hair." "Merde!" cursed a French police officer as he passed some money to a smirking friend. Apparently, he had just lost a bet. The commissioner snapped his croissant encrusted fingers, "DEVIL WORSHIP!" he proclaimed through a mouthful of pastry.
Landgon poked the corpse again. It jiggled in a most amusing way. He began to explain "Well not always see..."
"DEVIL WORSHIP!" shouted the commissioner, spraying crumbs everywhere.
"...sometimes the pentagram could mean other things..."
"LIKE DEVIL WORSHIP!" said the commissioner with triumph.
"...like nature worship, or a goddess symbol." finished Langdon.
"Goddess symbol? Like I said, DEVIL WORSHIP!" the commissioner said. Everyone laughed at the feminist joke. Langdon most of all. "Anyway...what about the nekkid-ness?" asked the commissioner. Langdon wondered how a frenchman had come to pronounced the word 'naked' like an American from the deep south, but he decided to let it slide. "Well..." began Langdon, poking the body again for entertainment, "judging by the lack of clothing, in addition to the shape he...sort of...drew, I think that Jacques Sauniere was trying to imply 'The Virtruvian Man' by Da Vinci." "MERDE!" shouted a cop again, flinging more money at his smug friend.
"What about the message?" asked the commissioner. "What message?" asked Langdon, whipping his head around. The commissioner pointed to some large and very obvious scrawl written across the floor. It read,
"4, 8, 15, 16, 23, & 42
Dave, no lard in Cio!
He is a tan loam!
P.S. Find Robert Langdon."
"Hey! My name's on there! It's like being on tv!" cried Langdon with glee. "That's not there." said the commissioner hurriedly, scuffing out 'P.S. Find Robert Langdon' with his shoe. "So, other than the part that doesn't exist, what does it mean?" asked the commissioner. Langdon stood on his head, and squinted at the lines. "Well...'loam' is dirt...by which I think he meant Catholics are dirt...I have no idea what 'Cio' is, but it could mean 'Catholics is ooooogly'..."
"What does 'lard' mean?" asked the commissioner, sounding intensely interested. "Lard's a fatty food. It's got nothing to do with hating Catholic people, so I have no idea why it's in there." said Langdon. After doing a few yoga positions for the heck of it, Langdon stood up and delivered his discoveries to the commissioner. "Jacques Sauniere apparently hated Catholics, and on his death bed tried to tell us that Da Vinci and goddess worship are related." he said, sounding very sure of himself.
"Hold on a second!" said Overworked Intern. She had limped out of her hiding space to confront Langdon, "Wasn't Da Vinci a homosexual? Why would he say that a man can only be truly divine through the union with a women if he was gay? That's what goddess worship is, right? Women above men, gates to the world and vaginas and all that jazz? A gay man would say that!" she asked. "SCUM!" shouted Dan Brown, leaping from HIS hiding space and chasing her out of the Louve.
...and then the author stopped typing. Again. "HA!" she snapped, brandishing a baby wren at her unfortunate readers. "I bet you thought I was gonna introduce Sophie this chapter, right? BUT YOU WERE WRONG! That stupid dead body took so long describe, I got sick of writing. TA!"