Pierre was unwinding from his fruitless and hurtful search of a Tardis in the café room, drinking Sic. Yes, one can get accustomed to very strange things…. He heard a curious noise in the street and went out to see what was the matter.
He saw a small wiry man with a drum quite as big as himself. A drum roll and the little man grumbled something about rabbit and myxomatosis. A few tottering steps and again the drum roll and the grumble. He had already seen the guy in the café coming for ‘chopines of blanc’. When he vacillated from too much ‘chopines’, the Raymond told him to go home.
Pierre went back in the café. The Raymond was not there, gone to water his vegetable garden ‘behind the bridges’. The owner’s absence did not disrupt the service. It was taken in charge by some of the regular customers who also managed the cash box totally freely. Pierre had already noticed that the Raymond was very cool as far as earning money was concerned, but to that point… He was amazed. And he did not know that, cherry on the cake, the green cash box was nothing else than the sewing box of the Raymond’s younger daughter.
The following night Pierre dreamt of giant rabbits, stolen money and retro times travels.
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