The door is thin. Really thin.
The sign on the door is French. Really French.
Whatever is inside is a secret. The door is locked. Locked with a thin key. A thin, French key.
What could be inside? Only the thinnest French treasure.
Perhaps the recipe for the perfect baguette.
Perhaps a lifetime supply of those chocolate Mikado sticks.
Perhaps the world’s longest tube of LU chocolate biscuits.
Perhaps a string of onions twelve storeys high.
But you will never know, because the thin door is too thin for you to get through.
Too thin and too French.
10 comments on “The thin door”
Perhaps it’s a really tall, thin, snooty French man. He’ll come out, scoff at my clothes and then retreat to his thin, French world.
That seems very likely. It can’t be nice being cooped up in there all the time. I wonder how often they let him out for brie and cointreau.
The fact that it’s also a fire door, means there could be a heat source in there… Could it be a garlic bread oven?
That’s a good point. Is it possible it’s actually one long, tall, already-lit Gauloise cigarette?
Well open the door, man, and find out.
Do I look like the sort of person who has access to thin French keys?
I was hoping with your proximity that you would be able to procure some. Isn’t there a French locksmith nearby who could help?
Un locksmithe Francaise? Oui, il y a un locksmithe Francaise. But he won’t open French locks for Anglaises. I asked him and he said non.
I can pretend to be French. I’ve got three acting certificates, and my Record of Achievement.
Leave it to me, I’ve got this.
You can try but locksmiths aren’t easily fooled. They’ve got the key AND they’ve got the secret.