A phone call
The cozy and quiet evening at a certain Parisian apartment was disrupted by a phone call. Moreover – absurd as it may be – even the ringing of the phone sounded… rather tense.
- Emiiiile! What am I to do? – the yell filled the whole room. The fair-haired projectionist heaved a sigh, knowing the case was hopeless, and with great patience asked the hysterical speaker:
- … What is this time?
- She went away again!
- Hm…
- It's the eighth time in two weeks!
- Hmmm…
- I can't bear it anymore! At first, everything is going great… I trust you understand what I mean, but then… then she has her… inspiration flash, then she's all dressed in five minutes and then she's off to see him again! And it's our honeymoon!
- Hmmm… well, have you tried talking to her? Well… how about talking to him?..
- EMILE!
- … yeah, I see how that's not a good idea. He just wouldn't understand.
- I've tried explaining it all to her! But you know her… I can't win with her. She always have the last word in the argument… doesn't help that she's an amazing kisser and… erm… no, no, we're not fighting or anything!.. It's all this damn "muse"! And it's not like I can do anything about it – she's a singer!
- Ummm… - Emile was listening patiently, albeit absent-mindedly counting the times he heard those complaints… was it the third time?.. or the fourth?.. yeah, must be the fourth time…
The voice in the receiver seemed to sob:
- … And that is… with whom my wife is cheating me on! And it's not even cheating… It's her creative process or something. She's singing, you get it, she's singing with him. But there's got to be some limit! Got to be!
- Well…
- YES, I understand completely, yes, I know that she loves me, I love her too, but… but… for the umpteenth time!
The phone went silent for a while.
- But the worst thing of all, is that if he was… well, a man, I would at least have all the right in the world to knock his teeth in! But how… merde, he is a giant, singing flea!