There is this cute little gadget shop near the hotel I always stay at in Paris. On my way back from lunch with my mother I spy a stylish little picnic set in the window. Bright colours and polka dots stare back and lure me in. I quickly breeze around the store, reminding myself sternly of yesterday’s overspending.
As I am about to leave, a little ornament by the cash register catches my eye. It looks like a small metallic mandarin orange. Hmmm, funky. I pick it up, shake it, and tip it upside down. Nothing. I notice a small button on the top and press it. Again nothing. I press it again, this time a bit harder, and hear a faint noise. Ah ha, a radio! Lifting it up to my ear, I notice my mother’s face from across the store. She is looking at me completely dumbfounded, like I have just pulled a gun out of my bag, or flashed the cute cashier.
It takes a second to register what has just happened. Eeek, fire! I look up, and see the side of my hair burst into flames. Next thing I know the cute cashier has jumped across the counter and is madly pounding on the side of my head and muttering in French. Utter humiliation. The fire is put out. The whole store is now looking at me, with perplexed looks on their faces.
My mother and I collapse outside the shop in a heap of laughter. Stares follow us. I hear a fellow tourist whisper, "Did that girl just put a lighter to her head?"
Yep. Yes, she did!
