It was already night and I still had not found the Venus de Milo. Recently arrived in Paris, I had gone to the Louvre, like any tourist worthy of the name. In the closing hours of course! And like any tourist worthy of the name, I had come to see the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo. But what an idea? I was completely lost in the rooms of the museum!
I began to curse the plan I stood when I came across a couple of rats well dressed.
"Hello, you also visit the Louvre? I asked
- Hello! No, we live in the place? answered the rat.
- Ha? Good. In that case, could you help me? I'm looking for the Venus de Milo. "
Mister Rat showed me the way and his wife urged him. "Come, dear, we'll be late for the cocktail party."
"Hey, it's stuffy in here," I said to myself watching them go.
I managed somehow to find my Venus. My God, what a beauty! What grace! What a sublime waist!
"Psss... hey, psss. "
I turned around but saw no one. Did I hear correctly?
"Psss, hey, you there, the rat... can you scratch my back? "
Wow... the head of Venus was leaning in my direction. Was it she who was talking to me? No no, impossible... I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them again to be sure I wasn't dreaming.
"Well, then, it comes? Come on, it itches! Please!
- Uh... yeah, I stammered.
But how to climb up her back? I scale the huge base of the statue and beg i n to climb the Venus.
"Hi, hi, your little legs tickle me! "
Once on her shoulder, she told me the exact spot and I scratched the cold marble. I took advantage of my elevation to enjoy the view of the other ancients of the room.
"Not easy to scratch yourself with no arms... I whispered.
- I was found like that, with the arms broken. My nakedness and my sensuality has earned me the name of Aphrodite, or Venus, goddess of love (she says with pride!), But maybe I'm Amphitrite, the goddess worshipped on the island of Melos in the Cyclades, Greece, where I was found. I was hidden in a crypt, underground for so long that I lost my memory. And without arms, probably we will never know who I am... "
What a mystery, I said to myself. I thanked her for her explanation and told her I wanted to see the Mona Lisa.
"Oh, you know, the Mona Lisa, she will not say anything to you ... since she is behind bulletproof glass, she can not talk to anyone...
- (A) bulletproof glass??
- Yes, she is very fragile, you know, the wood of which she is made is already degraded. The air-conditioned showcase keeps her at a proper humidity level and temperature. It's for her own good, for sure, but she feels very lonely, poor darling! Before she was chatting with partygoers of the Wedding at Cana, the Veronese painting facing her. "
Interesting, but a bit arrogant, this goddess. Who does she think she is? I'm not her stooge! All this success seems to have gone to her head. Like what, appearances can be deceiving! Next time, she will just have to carry on itching... I began to walk away and looked at her one last time, and the charm of her silhouette made me forget everything. Did she really talk to me?
Emile, the small heritage rat
Venus de Milo :
Mona Lisa :

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