Monday, February 28, 2011

Quinze-deux, Quinze-quatre

When I found out he went to school in Laval, I had my excuse to speak French. He said I sounded like an eighty-year old laveuse. And it’s no wonder. My parents’ French was ancient and smokey, with vowels so short and lazy they needed only a small crack of the lips to escape. This efficient way of speaking evolved over the centuries eventually leading us to perfect the Holy Trinity of French Canadian maneuvers: The simultaneous cigarette lip-dangle, stubby pull and cribbage count. It’s probably the language that the Fangorn Ents would have spoken if they came from Vanier.

No comments:

Post a Comment

AddThis Widget (for sharing)

Crazy Egg (Analytics)