Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Dedicated to Jodi and Katey

                     Petit Conte:  Stilettos in the Storm 
                             by Fifi, la Folle

     Once upon a time, there was a femme who thought she was French. She ate, drank, spoke, dreamed and thought in la belle langue. She wore stilettos trying to convince herself she looked like Catherine Deneuve. She didn’t. This diva thought she was one cool “Française.” But lo and behold, one day something threatened tout cela.

    She was out shopping for some new sandals, when tout de suite a feeling of dread came over her.  She looked up through the Mall skylight and saw the darkening skies. She a entendu rumbling, and the winds began to howl. Quickly purchasing les talons she liked in rouge, noir et rose, she threw the bags into her bagnole and rushed home.

     No sooner did she pull her sacs through the porte than the skies opened and down came the pluie. It came with a vengeance. The winds intensified, and the frog chorus in the pond behind her maison began to sangloter in terror. Thinking vite, she knew the safest place to hide was in her closet. Running quickly, she locked herself in the tiny enclosure entourée de 48 pairs of sassy foot armor. She knew that all that cuir and plume would protect her, and it did.

     Four days later, she est sortie the closet dressed in a petite mini-dress and a pair of red patent show-stoppers. She had felt far away from home tout ce temps, and it seemed like she was still spinning. Un chien was barking in the back of her mind, and she thought she heard un lion roar.

     Emerging safe, sound and merveilleuse in her red pats, she put on her favorite calm-me-down tune, “Somewhere Over the Arc-en-ciel.”

        la fin