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21st of December, 2024

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Rube

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Why they call me Rube, #1

Winter, 1999
Paris, France

Walking down a street in Paris, I notice a large, wrought-iron gate in front of an old building with the words “Le Mtropolitain” ornately engraved on it.

“Le Mtropolitain,” I muse aloud.  “Is that an opera house or something?”

My travelling companion, mouth agape, turns to me and says, “It’s the subway, dickhead.”



Comments

maura

Cute, Rube. Very cute. ;-)

I envy you being in such close range of Paris, but that's okay. Come December, I'll be only a channel-crossing away from the land of the Frogs.

THE REAL RUBE

I, and only I, am the real Rube.

Rube

I find that a bit hard to believe, considering that the "Real" Rube would probably have mis-spelled something in hsi post...

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