ANDREA AND PIETRO

Wherever shall I begin, darling?

I only nearly had two minor crash-ups in the Peugeot, so my arrival was perfect in Domme. Between us there were six cars, as our crowd was much larger than anticipated. But, that's to be expected as everyone knows everyone and who wouldn't want to be seen with everyone, you know?

We chose to leave everything behind in our cars, which all were convertible, and make our way up to the view from the Belvedere de la Berre, which was breathtaking; yet we all were excited to venture into the grottes before nightfall, which had been used in the past to shelter the town's inhabitants during the Hundred Years' War. Needless to say we got seperated from each other, but I was more than pleased with my promenade companions, the brother's Andrea and Pietro Clemente, as they are considered the creme de Clemente. It's quite the large family, you know. Andrea wears pink socks that he purchases from a small store in Rome that sells them to the Vatican's cardinals! That darling, is a fashion statement.

Fiona was a mess, truly. I thought perhaps she suffered from epileptic seizures or just odd behavior, and if that weren't the case, then there certainly was reason for me to think something was amiss, you know, because she has a truly bad habit of throwing herself in and out of her car, repeatedly.

Anyhow darling, the brothers and I were making our way through one of the many grottes when we heard Fiona screaming like bloody mad. We couldn't find her on the inside, so went out where it already had turned dark and we barely could make out her shadow of thrashing herself wildly about the car. Rather like throwing herself in the car, out the car, in the car, out the car, in the car and out the car, in again. Truly, she was making such a spectacle of herself, that I was beyond embarassed for her.

Darling, I may be daring but after my little debacle with the Baekelands the last thing I wanted was to get near madness again. But, she wouldn't stop screaming and thrashing herself so all about and back again. So Andrea and Pietro began to approach her when she threw herself out from the car- again, but this time brandishing a little pearl handled number, and she was loaded. Let me tell you darling, it was the most splendid match for the outfit she was wearing.

She then rushed up to Andrea and cocked it right near his face and called him a bloody bastard. Now, darling, you know that as dashing I might find Andrea I never whatsoever had any kind of passionate design on him. But, as MY luck would have it, that's exactly what was on Fiona's crazed mind.

I told her, "For God's sake, woman, put the gun down." "You can keep your bastard, though I don't know how swell he's going to look all bloody in his Baroni suit, and besides that he wears PINK socks!"

Then Peitro went and threw himself on her, as she was charging straight toward ME. Well, they had a mighty good tussle, and poor fellow- the gun went off and shot him right straight through that marvelous suit. Oops. Wrong brother. And stupid woman, she left alive the one who wears PINK SOCKS!

Well, it was just simply too much for me. One dead brother and one with pink socks! Though, I was amazed at the scene, as it was so Guy Ritchie well filmed. I mean, had he been there he surely would have directed it just the same. I'm quite sure. Most especially now so since he's gotten rid of Madonna. I mean, it just seemed that she crushed his talent, you know?

Then Fiona had the nerve to throw the gun toward my way which unwittingly I did not mean to catch, but did. Therefore, they were my fingerprints now all over the damn little thing. Fiona? Hell, she just jumped into her Fiat, well, I mean threw herself in, then out, then in, then out, then in again, before she finally started the damn car and drove off leaving Andrea and me covered in her gravel dust.

Andrea told me not to worry as he never much cared for his brother because he always was making fun of his PINK SOCKS! He said to help him throw Peitro in my Peugeot and we'd take a nice drive and dump both his brother and the gun in the river, and that he knew of a wonderful restaurant in Monpazier where we would be served the best lobster in France.

Well, I was up for that as I certainly wasn't going to just stand there and wait for the rest of the crowd to come round and find me a mess covered in gravel and dirt, and anyway I was ravished. I mean, it was his brother, not my loss, and he didn't seem to be in any sort of shock; but if you ask me darling, I think they're all a bit looney, epilepsy or not, or pink socks!

It was such a beautiful evening out that we just propped Peitro up in the back seat. I mean, his suit was a bit bloody, but other than that, nothing seemed out of the extraordinary. Well, except my beautiful white cotton Armani three piece sporting set that was covered in dust. No, other than that, all looked like three beautiful people out for a drive in the Peugeot.

After we rid ourselves of the evidence of the brother and gun we went on to dinner. And darling, right had we just been served a nice bottle of Batard Montrachet did Fiona from out of nowhere in particular walk straight up to our table and poured that bloody damn good wine right down the front of Peitro's beautiful Herme's sporting coat, and started screaming like a mad woman that we were having an affair - without her!

I stood up and told her that I'd had quite enough of her bad behavior as now she not only had ruined everyone's clothes, but wasted a wonderful bottle of French wine. Oh darling, she was such the mouse as she began not only to apologize and tell what a terrifically horrid day she had had, what with throwing herself into her car and out and in and out and back in again, but that she didn't think it fair that Andrea got to sleep with me and she didn't. Well, darling, I would have laughed right there what with her mind all cracked up like that, but she seemed to me to be such the washed up little rat by then, that I had nothing but pity for her and certainly no words, you know. I mean, the woman had left me speechless not to mention dirty clothes.

I told Andrea that I'd give him a ride back to Paris if he'd like, because I wanted nothing more than to get lost. Well darling, do you know what Andrea said to me before I dropped him off at his hotel? He said all he ever wanted was to star in a Steve McQueen movie, with him being Steve.

Darling, it's hard to explain French people.

They're rawther kind of queer, you know?

-Jacqueline