I have traveled all around the globe, been to every inch of the world, Italy, Romania, South Africa, Colombia, yet no matter where I go, the only country to which I feel I belong is the United States of America, the place where guns are treated as crosses the nation with only one dream and that is to live in a decent house with a decent job.
Yet today I was surprised to see this great country being compromised by the French, no less. How did I obtain this information? I walked on the street eating a burger until a girl bumped into me. Naturally, I wouldn't care, but this time the girl started speaking French.
Stranger: Je suis désolé, est-ce que tu parles français ?
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She looks more Swiss than French.
Y/N: *In French* I do.
Stranger: Thank goodness, I've been walking for hours trying to find someone I can talk to.
Y/N: What are you doing in the US?
Stranger: I'm an artist. I came here to put on an exhibition with my painting, but I got lost, and now I don't know where I am.
An artist, huh? You like their type, don't you? After all, they are very passionate.
Y/N: How'd you set up an exhibition if you can't speak American?
Stranger: I had a translator with me, but he refused to lift a finger as long as I did not pay him fifty percent of the revenue achieved from the exhibition.
Y/N: Maybe I could help you. I can be your translator for a reasonable price.
Stranger: Do you also seek fifty percent?
Y/N: I will decide how much after the event, but I promise you I won't go for more than twenty.
Stranger: I'm stuck anyway, so I might as well accept. My name is Anna. It's a pleasure to do business.
She extended her hand towards me for a handshake, which I took. It was weird, though. Why was her hand so close to my face, and why was she holding it differently? Probably some French traditions.
Maybe she wanted you to lick her fingers.
Anna: You're not very mannered, are you? Usually, when women raise their hand like that, you're supposed to kiss it not shake it.
Y/N: I don't really care about manners; let's just go. Where is this exhibition anyway?
Isn't she cute?
She's French.
Isn't that even better? Aren't French people supposed to be romantic? What if instead of some gallery, she just drags you to her bedroom, confessing and begging for your love? What's stopping you from unleashing your desires on her body?
