I’m beginning to worry about Mme. Fontenoy, all by her lonesome out there in the Pacific. She’s got months and months, and miles and miles, of rowing to go before she makes landfall in Tahiti. And she’s already created an entire fantasy world. Check out this recent report. I admit the rough translation only makes it sound more bizarre, but still:
“It’s about 11 smurf in the morning when it happened. I was smurfy rowing, my ipod in the smurf pocket; and then, a smurfy wave, 3 times bigger than a smurf bush arrived on OCÉOR’s portside. My ipod was running away but nevertheless, the smurf wave catched him, and in a last cry he couldn’t even let Johann Pachelbel finish my favourite canons.
The ocean, feeling that I was smurf angry, remained quiet.
My little Ipod in my smurf hands, trying to dry it, turning it in all ways but nothing to do.
I organised a little altar, with a small candle (looking like a duck) offered by Jean Jacques D.
Pétula manage all this really well.”
Are the Smurfs still big in France? Thank god Petula is still there. Wait, who the hell is Petula…?
Mad Maud: “I’d better finish this quickly. It’s almost Petula’s birthday. Hmm, I wonder if I should start rowing again tomorrow…”
The Earthist Chronicles 