Occult American
Eleven years ago, when I was a mere stripling of 20, I lived in France for a year on my year abroad for uni. Nice enough little town (Bourges) but not a greal deal to do. However, I met the only other English assistant in town and we became friends.

One night, when her boyfriend was over (who was a good laugh and liked going out on the pop), we spent a boozy night on said pop in one of the town's "pubs" (Le Scottish Pub- a less convincing French impression of a pub you've never seen). After kicking-out, we were outside in the street pissing about, when some woman storms over and starts berating me loudly in French. Turns out she thought we were having some sort of fight, but in the end we resolve the misunderstanding and it turns out she's actually American.

After we chat for a while and the other two go home, me and l'americaine slope off back to the flat of a friend where I was staying (he was away at the time and my willy's spidey sense was most definitely tingling). It transpires this lady is 34 ("wow, old" I think) and she's travelling round France in a car with her dog. "Hey, stay the night", I say. Yeah, good idea.

She goes and finds her car, with the dog inside, and brings it back to the flat. Fuck my hat, did the dog stink. You see, it was a lady dog and was very much in heat, so the car reeked of hot dog fanny, was fucking covered in dog hair and the dog herself was hyped up to buggery.

She insists on bringing the dog into the flat - fair enough I suppose, it can't stay in the car all night - but this ain't my place and pets are definitely not allowed. We go into the flat, me desperately trying to keep the dog quiet but she's having none of it and barking her doggy tits off. Oh yeah, I'm very allergic to dogs too, which wasn't helping the situation.

We eventually get into bed (plus the fucking dog, which kept crawling up between us and getting rancid essence de dog minge all over the place) and the American promptly launched into a wild-eyed tirade. She gave me some mental long speech about how "no means no" (we hadn't done anything, and I certainly hadn't tried anything on), demanded full anal (eh?), asked me if I thought she was a goddess and wanted me to call her that, and then topped it all off by telling me she was a genuine witch from Salem and gave me a hair-raising account of all the mental witchy bollocks she got up to. I was fucking petrified.

So not the most successful inter-generational coupling I've been involved in. Morning couldn't come quickly enough and fortunately I managed to give her dummy contact details the next day and get the hell out of Dodge.

The fucking stinking dog ate my socks too.
(Crayola Oblongata Is it Monday?, Thu 4 Dec 2008, 13:59, Reply)