"Je suis Chinois"

I told her, to prove that I could speak French.
"Je m'appelle Tal et je suis Chinois"
"Oh vraiment?" she replied, frenchly, "c'est magnifique!"
"Yeah, that was a joke," I blandly conceded, "I figured you could tell I'm not Chinese."
"Ce n'est pas sympathique." She was crying.

French people are idiots, arrogant cockatoos.
All for none and none for all.
Strippers and benzene users. Chlorophyll.
Why does she want me to be Asian?

I pressed on: "Je veux un croque-monsieur, s'il vous plait"
"What, just because I am from France you think I will cook you up a fucking croque-monsieur? Get real, Chinaman." She was angry.
You could fry an egg on her forehead, and I wanted to.
It had been hours since I last ate.

Cereal is for morning people.
Eggs, however, are for men of Jesus.
Disjointed conversations are for losers