Okay, so it was obviously time for me to get out of Dodge, but on the way to the airport I decided to get my cab driver to stop at the Eiffel Tower for one more picture. I had to hurry - it was about to rain.
Okay, so then I left the comic store and went back to my Paris hotel room. I was tired and kind of weirded out and pretty much ready to go home. I sat down to take off my shoes and there it was… a dead spider on the bottom of my shoe. So all I can figure is that Agnes must have had this pet spider and I guess I stepped on it. I’m also thinking that spider’s name was Irene… Irene, the Araignee. Sorry about that, Agnes.
Okay, so the next day I was in this comic store in Paris and that weird shit about Agnes and her bodyguard/husband/whatever??? screaming “Irene Yea!” was still bugging the crap out of me. Then, all of a sudden I hear these French kids saying something like “Home Irene Yea” and I’m thinking WHAT THE FUCK??? and then I see this poster for a Spiderman movie and DUH!!! I finally get it. “Irene Yea!” is “Araignee” which is fucking “SPIDER!” in French. Agnes and her buddy were yelling at me about a spider?
This is a picture of Agnes as she was leaving. I mean, normally something like this would, you know, bum me out, but to be honest I was kind of glad it was over. Ol’ Agnes was okay and all, but she was pretty moody, as well as reminding me a lot of a linebacker I used to know.
So all of a sudden this guy shows up out of nowhere and he’s screaming at me and saying something like “IRENE YEA!!! IRENE YEA!!!” and Agnes is standing like right behind him and pointing at me and she’s screaming something like “IRENE EST MORTE!!! IRENE EST MORTE!” I thought he was going to hit me, but they both just turned around and left.
I was kind of horny and wanted some action, especially after having bought us a nice room and all but then Agnes started getting all weird and distant.
This is the view from our room at the Perros-Guired Tower Hotel.
But then when we finally got up to our room in the Tower Hotel, things got a little better, at least for a while.
And when she wasn’t talking on her cell phone, Agnes was looking in her goddam purse, like TEN OR TWENTY TIMES A DAY!!! And she was talking to it, like in a weird quiet little kid voice - in FUCKING FRENCH OF COURSE! It was kind of weirding me out.