My name is Béatrice,
and people call me Béa, Boyle, Joker, or Béatroce (“atroce” means
awfull in French, some of my friends are tuff I know). I'm 75% Parisian
and 25% from random unknown places in France you don’t ever want to go to.
If I were a fast food item, I
would be a Big Mac...
But not the perfect one on the picture, the real one with too many
salad escaping from it: still with all the ingredients, but such a mess!
My
best memory in a fast food? My grandfather, who
lives in an unknown place in France you don’t ever want to go to, is -how could
I say it properly?- VERY traditional: he sleeps in a castle, enjoys eating the
food he grows or hunts himself, and almost collapsed 2 weeks ago when he read
on a telegram that Charles de Gaulle was dead.
Once, when I was 8 or 9, the two of us drove to a random family lunch
in an unknown place in France you don’t ever want to go to.
We got lost really bad in the middle of nowhere, so bad and
during so long that I started to turn myself into Béatroce, as to say the most
awfull and annoying kid on Earth: “Iiiiiiiiiiih,wheeeen do weeeee arriiiive? I
wannaaaaa peeeeeeeee, you’re the woooooorst driveeeeeer eveeeeeeer, we
wiiiiiiill never make it theeeeeeere, and I’m starviiiiiiing. Heeeeeeew, I’m
really starviiiiiiing. I wannaaaaa eeeeeeaaat!!!!!”.
And suddently my grandpa parked the car at the most unexpected place
ever he could go to: a Mc Donald!!
We actually did have lunch there and I couldn’t even tell you if he
enjoyed it or not because I was too damn relieved and focused on my meal to
notice anything else.
Now this story is part of the family legend and each time someone’s
complaining about how traditional my grandfather is, he replies, kind of proud:
“ Should I remind you that I went to Mc Donald once?”
.B.E.
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