THE PERILS OF FRANCOIS excerpt
Bob: Francois, this gentleman is Chief Inspector…
Perrier: Pierre Perrier of the French Surete (sur-eh-tay). A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Fibian.
Francois: Bonsoir, Inspector.
Perrier: Chief Inspector, cie vous plait.
Francois: Of the Surete?
Perrier: But of course.
Francois: Traffic division?
Bob: Francois…
Francois: A little joke.
Perrier: Oui. Very little. Your reputation precedes you, Monsieur Fibian…as does mine. Surely you have
heard my name.
Francois: Surely I have not.
Perrier: Perhaps you are familiar with the famous case of Jacques the Stripper?
Bob: Jacques the Stripper? Oh, I’ve heard of him. He was that male dancer in Paris who killed his wives
like Bluebeard. Must have been, what, a half dozen women or so.
Perrier: Bravo, Monsieur Bordeaux…uh, Boob. Oui, Jacques Larue was the most notorious murder case
in France in the 21st century. I was the chief inspector of that case.
Francois: And what has happened to Jacques the Stripper? Safely behind the bars thanks to the efforts
of one Chief Inspector Pierre Perrier.
Perrier: He was never caught.
Francois: And this is the reputation that precedes you?
Perrier: I was on Nancy Grace!
Francois: How lucky for her. (laughs) I kid you! I tease! That’s what I do, Chief Inspector. Tell him, Bob.
Bob: That’s what he does.
Francois: Pardon my wicked sense of humor. I mean no harm.
Perrier: But of course Monsieur Fibian.
Francois: Francois, if you please. We are all friends here. Please accept my apology if I have offended
you. (offers hand)
Perrier: No offense taken. (grasps his hand that turns into a short contest, that Francois wins when
Perrier releases first) Quite a strong grip you have there.
Francois: Perhaps you should work out more, my friend and maybe someday you will…get a grip.
(laughs, joined in by Perrier, who breaks off and storms away) He’s certainly an odd bodkin.
Bob: Careful, ol’ buddy. I wouldn’t be pokin’ him with a stick the way you just did. He’s already got you
in his cross hairs for some reason. There’s more to him than meets the eye.
Francois: But less than you might think. What is up with that accent?
Bob: He claims he’s from Paris. That’s in France. Which is in Europe.
Francois: What are you babbling about, Boudreaux? He’s about as French as a Volkswagen. And if he’s a
policeman, what does that make me?
Bob: The way you’re looking at that young lady, I’d say you were a horny toad.
Francois: Don’t be crude, Bob. But if you weren’t crude, you wouldn’t be Bob, would you? So who is
she? She seems so very familiar to me.
Bob: Don’t you recognize her? That’s Lola Piccard.
Francois: Alas, no. My memory is pretty darn kaput.
Bob: Does it have something to do with your…appearance?
Francois: You might say that. I’ll tell you all about it, but first, indulge, my friend as I attempt to
reacquaint myself with Miss…?
Bob: Piccard. Lola Piccard. Hop to it then.
Francois: Cute. (to Lola) Good evening, Miss Piccard.
Lola: And to you, Mister Fibian.
Francois: Francois, if you please.
Lola: Lola, if you please.
Francois: It does please me. My friend, Bob has informed me that we’ve met but you must excuse my
faulty memory…
Lola: Have there been so many women in your life, Francois that you have lost track?
Francois: That’s not the case. If it were not for unfortunate circumstances, I would never forget
someone like you.
Lola: Someone like me? What about just me?
Francois: Impossible. Help me out here, mon cheri…
Lola: I am not your cheri.
Francois: As you wish. Tell me, where did we meet? How did we meet? When did we meet?
Lola: Not why did we meet?
Francois: I can see why.
Lola: But do you know? I thought not. Do you have a light?
Francois: Certainly. (produces lighter and lights it)
Lola; I don’t smoke. (turns away)
Copyright 2014 by Scott Cherney