O HAI GUYZ. Yes, Fwoggeh is back from hiatus and is back in the writing game, this time tackling Les Mis. I'm not sure if I'll continue this, discovered lurking in my 'Finish Later' file, so please review and tell me what you think.
Fandom is plagued by a menace. Call them whatever you like, but in this fandom, they go under the name of Marie-Suzette. Hopefully (fingers crossed) the character of this story is not one of those.
We begin our epic(ish) story in Paris, May 2008…
Dad handed me some euros. "Your mother and I are off to the hypermarche." He said, checking that he hadn't accidentally handed me his MasterCard and pin number. "We'll be back in about an hour and a half, and if you're not back outside Notre-Dame before then, say au revoir to ever going out by yourself again." He looked all smug with his limited French. Bless him.
"Alright." I muttered, shoving the euros in my pocket. "S'later."
My family and I had come to Paris for the weekend. Since wine shopping bored me, that afternoon I was allowed, grudgingly by my overprotective mother, to go explore Paris. Armed with an A to Z of Paris and some of my fathers' euros I set off down the street, nearly being knocked down by a gendarme on a bicyclette.
I can speak limited French too, me!
Luckily most foreign people I had met were eager to practice their English on me. And who was I to deny them that?
I turned left and wandered along, consulting my A to Z and trying to look as untouristy as possible. Which is difficult when one is carrying an A to Z of Paris. But I digress. I decided, in a fit of je ne sais quoi, to ignore the handy signs directing me to le Metro and continue on foot. After ten minutes I didn't recognise any of my surroundings. After fifteen, I was lost.
I began to feel rather conspicuous to be honest, in a pair of jeans, trainers and a red logo t-shirt. The area I was trekking through was rather dark and plain, with passers by dressed in a similarly dark, plain fashion. I decided to try and find the Eiffel Tower or some similarly touristy spot, and hurried over to a young looking guy with long hair, wearing a long coat.
"'Scuse me." I said, "Er, I mean, Excusez-moi…"
The Frenchman turned to face me (and he was rather good-looking to be honest) but when he spotted me and my clothing, his face filled with horror for some unknown reason. "Enjolras!!!" He shouted down the street, sounding rather scared. I definitely didn't recognize that word in my 'Handy French Phrases for the Very Dim' book. Perhaps it was a street name…
I was broken from my contemplating as came the sound of about half a dozen people running up the street. I decided to walk on, since this cowering Frenchman could not help me in the slightest, and quite honestly, I was rather concerned at the sound of running getting closer and closer….
Suddenly, they stopped.
"MARIE-SUZEEEEEEETTE!" Someone male and French sounding cried behind me.
"What!" I squeaked, before someone bundled into me. "Ahhh! Abduction! Abduction! Violence inherent in the system!!!" A sack was suddenly shoved over my head and I felt myself being picked up and thrown roughly over someone's shoulder. "Oh well this is just GREAT." I said sarcastically, kicking my feet frantically. "Put me down you, you…cheese eating surrender monkey!"
I was suddenly hit over the head with something possibly wooden. Owowowow. "That was uncalled for…" I whimpered, my head throbbing, as everything went black.
When I eventually came round, I realised I couldn't move my arms and legs. Or see for that matter. "I'm blind!" I shrieked. "And paralyzed! And I've got a terrific headache! Heeeeeeeeelp!"
"Quiet!" I heard someone shout, before the blindfold (aha! That explained a lot) was ripped off my face and I was nearly blinded for real by the sudden light. When my eyes adjusted, I looked down to see I was tied to a chair. Not paralyzed, as previously assumed, which was a slight relief. However, I began panicking like a loon again when I realised I'd been kidnapped by…
Huh. That was odd. When I looked up at my captors, I recognized my incredibly unhelpful, if good looking, Frenchman. Zut alors, I thought, I've been caught up in some teenage abduction trade. It's curtains for me for sure, Mum and Dad will be in the hypermarche, browsing over wine and croissants at discount pricesfor hours yet and they could have shipped me to Kazakhstan to work in the mines or whatever they kidnap people for these days…
"Where am I?" I said croakily. "Who are you complete psychos?!"
"Quiet, Marie-Suzette!" One of them declared. This just confused me even further.
"Marie-Suzette?" I said. "Who's she? I'm not even French, my name's-"
"Regardless!" Another shouted, waving his arms about carelessly and almost knocking one of the others over. "Christelle, Adorine, Ceciliane, Gloriane Montague LeNoir, or whatever-your-name-is…" He appeared to lose his train of thought at this point and contented himself by taking another swig out of the bottle he was carrying.
"Who on earth is called THAT?" I cried. "Look, I said before, my name's not Christelle Adorine…Christelle Adori…whatever he just said. My NAME is-"
"Your name is not important." A new speaker interrupted from somewhere behind me. Unfortunately, I was not an owl and could not turn my head 180 degrees. So thus, I had to wait until Mr Dramatic Statement Entrance (or possibly the Phantom of the Opera. I wasn't sure) walked round the chair in front of me. Turns out it wasn't the Phantom of the Opera at all, but another Frenchman. Quelle surprise. On the plus side, he was trés handsome.
"My name," He began. "Is Enjolras. And we are Le Amis d'ABC."
"Funny name for a band of kidnappers." I said, and was rewarded with a Death-Glare-O'Doom®. I could've sworn one of the others muttered to his neighbour. "I thought he reserved that one exclusively for R?"
"Wait!" Enjolras suddenly seemed to realise something and scooted away from me very quickly. "AHahAhaHA! We can understand each other! SUUUUZETTE!" He cried in a very hysterical and OOC way. Then he quickly calmed down. "Marius, write that down."
"On what?" A young man in the corner replied. I assumed this was Marius.
"On that?" I suggested helpfully, gesturing with my head to an Apple laptop lying on a nearby table.
Enjolras screamed again and pointed at me. "YOU BROUGHT THAT WITH YOU!!!! MARIE-SUZ-"
"Um, actually," One of the others piped up, with a glassy look in his eyes. "It belongs to Arielle Papillion, who has eyes of fiery cornflower and flowing locks of striking sunrise gold, she's a waitress here at Café Musain, and last night she confessed to me that she's General Lamarques secret lovechild…"
At this point, a bald chap grabbed the rambling one and backhanded him hard across the face. "Snap out of it Combeferre!" He cried. "Don't let her get to you!"
'Combeferre' quickly fell back into a chair, gasping for breath. "Sorry…" He muttered. "Let my guard down…"
"Fascinating as this is," I said. "I'd still like to know why I've been tied up by members of the re-enactment society-"
"Le Amis!" Enjolras interrupted.
I resisted the urge to bang my head against something. "WHATEVER. Why are you all dressed weird?"
"We should ask you that." My unhelpful Frenchman answered, making his first contribution to the conversation since I'd apparently scared the life out of him in the street.
Eh?
Slightly fearing the answer I'd get, I cautiously asked. "…What year is this?"
Amidst more odd looks, Marius was kind enough to tell me, looking deadly serious "1831."
"Oh I see." I said. And screamed.