Fried eggs and a friendship fractured (Rousse)

My friendship with Belle was over, and it was all my fault.

I invited two extra women that I barely knew to visit, even though Belle was meant to be my guest of honour. At the time we were also having all sorts of problems with our burglar alarm, and the foul-mouthed men who came to fix it made everyone feel very uncomfortable.

Given the circumstances, I decided that it would be much easier to cook Belle’s breakfast up the road at VJ’s flat. I gave her and the two other guests a slice of toast each, then headed out the door, promising to return with three fried eggs within ten minutes.

When I reached VJ’s flat, however, I found fierce competition for frying pan space. Here several others were already crowded around the cooker making breakfast for their own guests. I begged an Indian man for a corner of his pan, but by the time that he was able to granted me this there were no eggs left to cook. I gave up and went to work.

Meanwhile Belle and her new companions were waiting for me to return to my flat with their breakfast. Stranded indoors all day, by the evening all three of them were furious with me.

I tried to placate them with promises of a punk band in a bar at the corner of Dundas Street.  Then I ruined everything when I lost my way there.

The thin red-haired girl in the pale green ballgown was especially angry. She refused to pay me any further attention when I started to reminisce about my time as an undergraduate in Nantes.

Meanwhile Belle had already broken off our friendship forever.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s