Andouillete

Today I was given the kind of task I used to give interns: tedious and not particularly challenging. It didn't bother me at all, I was happy to have something to do. And I carefully timed it to take just about all day.

For lunch Eric and I ducked into the canteen just before it closed at two (I was about to faint from hunger). The only thing left were sausage-looking things, so I went with my new rule of "if it looks familiar, eat it".

As we sat down, Eric had a look at my plate and said "Do you have this in America?" An ominous sign. As I cut into it, I felt the same sensation that Dave had when eating the kidneys a few days ago: I don't want to know what this is until I'm done eating it. But unlike Dave, I can't supress my curiousity long enough to wait. I asked Eric "qu'est-ce que c'est? (what is it?)" and he motioned toward his stomach while he searched for the words. I quickly decided to change the subject.

Back in the office, Eric and Dominique huddled over a dictionary and muttered between themselves. More motions toward their stomachs. I announced "I DON'T WANT TO KNOW", which was a lie. I couldn't wait to tell Dave that I'd beaten his kidney indident. To tell the truth, it didn't taste bad. But I knew that I'd never order it again.

Eric swung the dictionary around to face me and pointed to the word: chitterlings. I said "This is a British dictionary. I still have no idea what you're talking about". I took out a piece of scrap paper and drew stomach. They nodded enthusiastically and Domique happily added "And the intestines!"

I groaned, and Alfredo said "Why did you tell her if she said she didn't want to know?"

It was the first time I've had a good laugh since I started working here.