I ordered a lobster soufflé. It was the

I ordered a lobster soufflé. It was the Pompidou Center of soufflé's, served with a lobster cracker. Such a carapacious soufflé. Francois would receive a bad food review I decided

.The crette de coq was next. I chewed, and chewed...and chewed some more. Merde! What was wrong with Francois today? Uttering French curses, I made my way back to the kitchen.

Deux vaches sont en me regardant par la fenêtre un air menaçant. Je n'ai pas volé ton lait! Mon aéroglisseur est plein d'anguilles.

You know what? I prefer it when the French stick to mime. But they hadn't and we had a crisis on our hands. The hovercraft was full of eels and the cows thought we were milk thieve

s. I quickly slammed down the boot on my mini. I'd been framed! Where could I hide all these jugs of milk? Just then, I was hit by an eel from the French Hover Police. (deja vu)

The French Hover Police ride flying poodles. They have brie guns but their weapon of choice is haughty scorn. The elite Jerry Lewis Corps is only called in for very extreme mission

On Labor Day for the telethon. Otherwise telethons are banned. Hoverboards are legal, so we use them everywhere. Understand, Comrade Lewis? I know you do. Now let's skedaddle.

Officer Nelson Busby. "Did you boys happen to drop a bass on the border?" Busby asked them. "Bass? What bass?" stammered Lewis unconvincingly. Busby held up a fish and an instrumen

T and pointed at a thirtysomething man in the back of his cruiser. "Oh, a bass? I misunderstood. I guess we were not in sync. No officer, we did not drop a bass but we did drop it.