"Call me Henri Léonard Jean," he said, warmly. "I loved your book couvers and iPad box, and hot Heidis. You really got talént. And you've got a French name. So you're really perfect."
"What's this all about?" I said. "Perfect for what?"
"Une petit commission, Mister Androo. As you know, the Grandes Armes de Paris is very old."
"Grande... um... the big... furniture...?"
"The ah, how you say, Mantle of Arms. Crest, no?"
"Oh, the Coat of Arms."
"D'accord. So this is what the current one looks like:"
"It's nice," I said. "And I know that 'Fluctuat nec mergitur' means 'She is tossed by the waves but does not sink' because Professor Ibrox told me. It's kind of a nice way of saying that whatever goes down - plague, war, Sarkozy, there will always be a Paris."
"It is nice," he confirmed. "But it's exactly nine hundred years old and we want to update it. The crest, not the logo."
"And you think I'm the best man for the job?"
"Mister Androo, we see from your extraordinary work on the Asterix jokes that you totally understand the French mentality. We believe in you."
Was his trust misplaced? Judge for yourself.
Can you find the eight changes I made?
|Nouveau Grandes Armes de Paris|