"I have a lover. I have a lover," Avogadro exclaimed in a French accent as he looked in the French mirror at his French make-up table and thought to himself that he felt particularly French today. He turned and sashéd to the French doors of his French balcony. Upon opening the doors, the French curtains started floating up and down in a way that was oh so French.
"Croissant," he whispered into the night air. "Madame. Arvwar. Mon Petit Vulcan. Ooo la la." Oh baby was he French.
Claude rolled over in the French bed and kicked the French sheets off of his French body, exposing his French ass and making Avogadro feel French in a very turned-on way.
"Leon?" mumbled Claude. "Is that you mon sexypants?"
"No no my French Claude. It is me, Avogadro!"
"Eh?" Claude lit a French cigarette with a French lighter. He got out of bed and strutted out on the balcony with no French clothes on, took his French cigarette out of his mouth and puked French vomit over the edge, hitting a dying homeless woman named Cindy. Cindy wasn't French.
"Oh, Claude! Get back inside. I don't want you to catch a cold!" Ignoring Avogadro, Claude went back inside, his manhood waggling as he walked, and put a really messed-up French remix of a god-awful Bjork song called "All is Full of Love" on the stereo. It sounded better French.
Cindy sat in the street, covered in vomit. "I have a bag on my head." She was approached by a short, well endowed woman with short hair and a sword. Cindy thought that the woman looked very much like a merry female sidekick . . . she pondered this and said, "I have a red hot tamale." Damn she was SO not French.
"Excuse me, homeless person," said Gregoria. "Have you seen a really hung French guy with a really stupid heroic-looking dumbass around here?"
"I can't wait to get home so I can take a shit."
"Wait I AM home!" Cindy shit all over the sidewalk.
Gregoria saw something moving in one of the turds and went to inspect it.
"THAT'S NOT YOURS!" cried Cindy.
"Homeless woman, do you want me to take you to a shelter?"
"I'M NOT MOVING!"
"Okay, whatever. Bye."
"That's right, Rosa. I have a bag on my head."
Avogadro sat in the French corner and felt himself while Claude slam-danced on the French bed. Suddenly, Avogadro gave birth to a French baby, turned his head and vomitted. He immediately nailed the baby to a wall for safe keeping.
Just then, Gregoria burst through the door which made a sound roughly like "BAM."
"Ah-ha!" she declared. "You! You stupid French naked guys think that you can just take heros out for a one night stand just so you have someone to watch you slam-dance to European mixes of god-awful Bjork songs! You disgust me."
"Look how it waggles." said Claude, sounding very French.
"....wow....that's actually pretty impressive." smirked Gregoria. Then she remembered that she was a lesbian and proceeded to grab Claude's French thingy and hacked it off with her sword. Claude immediately turned into a short, disgruntled goth chick with really cool eye make-up and crucifix-clad stockings.
"Want some prozac?" offered the goth chick.
"Gee, thanks." Gregoria and the goth chick had sex on the French bed. Afterwards, the goth chick grew wings and flew out the French window. Gregoria put Avogadro in a sack and they rode off into the sunset on their LoLos.