The Vase (Part II)

A soigné, soit-disant bonhomme knelt down by my side.  I looked up and I saw his rose face sun kissed by the sun and a toupee partly covering his hair.   I thought he wanted to propose. A dreamers dream – reverie[1].  Who wants a damaged body with a broken heart.  He picked up my parts and hurriedly parted after hiding them inside his tunic pocket, nearest to his heart.  I could hear his heart beat.  ‘Boom Booboom… Boodiboom…boodiboom’, the beat of an ambitious Leo.

My Louis is dragged through the Boulevards of Paris. “Ville de Lumiere”[2].

When the sun starts to set, two lovers are rolling over the green gazon[3], their lips rouge[4] from kissing, tongues locked together and arms entwined in a ceaseless embrace.

Not far away a troubadour[5] is singing “sous les ponts de Paris Lorsque descend la nuit.[6]” A bateau-mouche sails by The young giggle and the old sigh.  A gentle breeze is blowing away and gently blew her jupe sideway, revealing no culotte[7] underneath.

When we reached the Bastille my Louis said:

–          “I am the head of the state”.

 To which Robes Pierre replied:

–          “You will soon be a state without a head”.

My Louis graciously knelt down and with swiftness Madame Guillotine ended his era before he could utter his dernier cri[8].  His blood flowed red. Who says royal blood is blue.

My petit bourgeois[9] took me to his garconiere[10]. A pied-a-terre with ensuite kitchenette and toilet with bidet.  He threw my parts on the floor, when he finished re-assembling them, I looked like the map of Europe.  He stared in the void with monomania, an idée fixe[11] to become a Doyan[12].

As a retouche, he stuck me with two pebbles, light green colours, which became my eyes. Now I could see and even foretell the future.  He threw his chapeau[13]over my visage[14], slipped on the sofa and fell asleep.

One day I felt so jealous, I could have committed a crime passionel. He started courting a society debutante[15]. He sent her a bouquet of roses, inside which was hidden a billet-doux[16] on which he wrote “ I will love you day and night”.  I wished I could talk and tell my inamorato[17] “Beware, she is a louche who needs a douche. Just smell her lingerie”.  She always had an entourage of beau men, who sat in her boudoir [18]and bandinage[19] over bon mot[20] while sipping Chateau Lafitte and Margaux. I didn’t know her name until one night I heard my Romeo fanaticizing:

-“War is like sex. Men like soldiers, use their weapons of attack under cover of darkness. They are ambushed in a magnetic pit. They try to make a sortie but find themselves captives of this precious redoubt.  Firing their last bullets, they surrender unconditionally. The enemy is reduced to a corpse and the battlefield to a graveyard. After the cry of ‘Alala’, the silence of the night. The strategy of war is that whenever you find an opening niche, strike at once.”

Kinky louche then said:

“ Shut-up and Kiss me! Baiser-moi  doucement[21] this time.” 

To which my lover replied:

“Not tonight Josephine. The quickness of coming lies not in giving satisfaction, but in taking pleasure.  The hissing of the bliss presage end of delight. In London or Paris, it is all alike.”

Now I know her name, Oh la la, its Josephine! Ex-mistress of Barras and a gogo of paramours. No surprise they named her house malmaison.

My new Casanova nee[22] Napoleone Buonaparte is a corporal, a general, a first consul, King of Italy, Mediator of the Swiss confederation, protector of the confederation of the Nile, discoverer of the Rosetta stone and above all my nouveau[23] paramour.

He created the Louvre ‘Le Musee Napoleon’ and filled it with artifacts combed from spoils of war.

I am a habitué[24], accustomed to ménage a trois. First Marie-Antoinette, then Josephine and now Marie Louise – This Austrian Ostrich.  The day my lover became emperor, the first thing he did is remove my chapeau and put a tiara instead.

He created an army, more puissant[25] than Anthony’s, Hannibal, Alexander or Genghis Khan. He made conquering Europe his cause célèbre[26] and in the process  bayoneted millions of Europeans, Egyptians and Mamelukes.

At first we were lucky, then disaster struck like a coup de foudre[27]. The invasion of Russia-faux pas[28].  A coup de grace[29] for the grande armee.

One night before a  battle, My Napo commanded:

-“ Where  is my vase? My luck-charm. Allez, bring it to me know! Alas, not knowing that no vase or charm can save us now. 

Each battle started at the sound of the tambourines and I could hear Napoleon on top of his Arabian horse named desiree and at the top of his voice commanded:

–          March.. March.. March.  Un..Deux.. Trois…. One… Two…Three. Soon the Brits will be speaking French. Who is this son of A…… of Nel. Have you ever heard of a one-eyed Admiral?  You need two eyes to win a war.   The Battle is lost before its won. Keep sailing fast: Splish, Splash. Let’s chop those shopkeepers, and make them sell croissant, instead of saussison[30]. We were defeated. Battu. Perhaps the mistrals[31] fault. 

After the treaty of Fontainebleau, we had our first honeymoon in  Elba. The allies threw us in an oubliette[32], but not for long.  My Napoleon kept eyeing me with a glace[33] look and finally with finesse and panache[34] we made a facile[35] escape.  He kept his sang froid[36] and alone bravely faced his army and said:

-“Who dares shoot his emperor, do it now or never.”

The reply echoed throughout France “Vive L’empereur”.  It was a short 100 day honeymoon. Pas mal.[37]

We were forced to have a second honeymoon in Saint Helena with Vizir[38].

Our milieu[39] consisted of a clique of confrere comrades who sub-rosa secretly plotted our demise. A claque who clapped and are ready to kiss ass to be around us ( In a political sense, it’s more correct to suck cock than  kiss ass ). We suffered from ennuie[40] , a mélange of loneliness and melancholy.  When you are a déclassé from society, how hard is the fall.

After his last super, he had severe pains. He ate bouillabaisse and bombinated la Marseillaise. Sensing his end is near, he howled with a roar.

-“Forgive me God for the blood I shed in vain, out of grandeur and playing with soldiers as marionette[41]s. Charlemagne, Caesar and I created empires based on force which like the snow soon melted. God, you are stronger than all of us for your son Jesus founded a vast and lasting empire based on love alone,  without firing a single shot.”

 He closed his eyes and died.  What will happen to me now? Que sera sera. Cuckoo Cuckoo. A ship named ‘Belle Poule’ suddenly appeared in the horizon and took his remains to the Invalides and me to the Louvre.  Vive the ‘Napoleonic Code’, the birth of ‘Liberte, Egalite and Fraternite’.[42]

By Anton Kattan

© July 14^th 2008