Pascal's sausage

This is a story which i've been working on since Paris. It was for a film class with Patricia, my film teacher.
Been thinking, working on it. Not quite finished yet.

There is a man who lived in a tiny town in America. In this town they spoke only French. How, this came about I’m not sure. So, in this town, let’s call it Versay, there was this man who had been the town’s butcher forever, we’ll address him as Pascal. However, with such limitations in this town of French language he had also bestowed a limitation upon himself. He would only make sausages. And in Versay, we’ll call these sausages Les saucissons. He was a lonely French speaking man, because as one might already know, a town’s citizens can’t only eat saucisson, to stay strong and healthy. And because there is only one butcher in town, everyone had given up on him and meat completely. So, the town of Versay was meatless and had in it’s walls one very sad and lonely buthcher.

One day, Pascal decided to leave Versay. If a butcher has no business, he’s got no money. If a butcher has no money, he’s got no car. If he doesn’t have a car, the butcher must create a car himself to leave the depressive imitation French town of Versay. So, under those strict guidelines, Pascal created himself, out of found scrap metal and corn cobs, a beautiful saucisson car. If, for those who have never seen a saucisson car, are interested in knowing what this type of car runs on, it is nothing more than the skins of saucisson.

Because Pascal has had so many years of experience, perhaps his only experience, in making saucisson he had created a casing SO perfect for his saucisson that they can actually fuel a properly made saucisson car.

So, he left. Pascal packed his car full of saucisson incased in the casing which would fuel his way to Canada. Versay is located just outside of Chicago by Midway airport, he had a long trip ahead of him in a car which could not exceed 20 miles an hour. So, by the time Pascal hit Joliet his saucisson car broke down in front of the Joliet diner where he saw a beautiful girl named Juliette. In Joliet, Juliette had stopped for a coffee break on her way to Canada too, at least this is what he hoped for. He hoped her name was Juliette because Juliette rhymes with Joliet, and he thought it would be harmonious to the ear when telling people their love story.

He saw her through the window. She had long brown hair, it was curly and hung down her back so effortlessly. She was a beauty. She wore a navy button up sweater , and a short skirt, …possibly. He couldn’t really see what she was wearing through the bricks that hid her possibly beautiful legs but, he imagined every minute detail of her down to the style of bobby-pin in her wavy brown hair. Come to think of it, it could have been red or black or even blonde hair. He couldn’t seem to see much through the window with such a glare from the morning sun, but he was hoping she had at least some hair. Anyways, he thought, Why is she sitting alone? Pascal wondered, and stared, and stared, at his imagined image of Juliette in the window. A lonely butcher, with no friends and no lovers in his personal history does not know the proper way to act towards a possible new friend. Juliette eventually felt this awkward gawking, and turned to Pascal through the window. Annoyed she gave him the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The most slender, pale skinned middle finger. She’s beautiful, he thought.

So, Pascal ran inside the Joliet diner and sat beside Juliette. She, however was not so beautiful, and she was not a she, she was a he. And he was James. James was a truck driver taking a break from a long haul. James was delivering a truck load of rotten pistachios back to pensylvania. The pistachios were rotten as can be, infested with tiny worms you shouldn’t eat but couldn’t taste if you did. And James, did not know of the pistachios’ rottenness, so James was feeling a little queezy after a 6 hour-long pistachio eating joy-ride. James also doesn’t know what the hell Pascal is saying.
“Je m’appelle Pascal. Ca va? Je pense qui tu est une femme, mais, toi n’est pas, mais. Nous sommes…”
James wasn’t in the mood to punch Pascal in the face like he normally would, so James kindly scooted this skinny foreigner off the vinyl diner bench and walked out, leaving Pascal the check.
Pascal, disheartened and almost at a point of giving up on all society decided to try fixing his saucisson car and head back towards Canada. But, just as he was leaving, a loud, large woman grabbed him by his oversized ears and demanded money from him for Jame’s bill. This butcher hadn’t a cent. But! Alas, he did have some of the best saucissons on this side of the English speaking Mississippi River. So, he offered, Beth, a perfectly made saucisson. She was aggravated at his barter at first but after trying his saucisson she fell in love with these saucissons and their creator, Pascal, instantly.
Pascal, with a broken saucisson fueled car, and his first-ever admirer, decided that instant he will let that damn saucisson car rust until there’s nothing left of it and he’ll stay in Joliet forever with his new lover. Beth, an underpaid waitress was also a bit lonely and thought Pascal’s accent was rather attractive. She never understood why he called her “Bets” but, she can’t understand much anyways so she let it pass.
Through the years which they lasted together, about 2 ½, Bets and Pascal didn’t talk much. This didn’t bother Pascal much, seeing this is how everyone treated him. But Beth quickly fell out of love with Pascal and his annoying language and soon fell quickly in love with every man who ordered a coffee before noon at the diner.
Pascal eventually took a megabus back to Versay after getting a great deal on a one way ticket to a town which no one ever wanted to go. I can’t tell you that Pascal was a happy man in the end, but I can tell you that he was home, and home felt good to a lonely butcher. And by this time, the people of Versay missed their friendless butcher and his tasty saucissons. So, business commenced once again for at least a few months and Pascal dreamed of Juliette, a long haired beauty waiting for him in Joliet.