Aimer jusqu’à la déchirure

When you are looking for a place to sleep, and none of your existing 9,062 beds will do – why does this sound like déjà vu? – what better place to choose than, erm, a pile of papers waiting to be shredded?

Before you start to panic, don’t worry: the shredder wasn’t plugged in. So there was no chance of Louis Catorze mincing his feet to a mush in the event of him climbing into the shredder, which he did just before settling on the pile of paper. But what on earth possessed him to do this? Why would anyone do this? What even IS this?

Look at the fangy little sod’s face, all proud of his efforts and loving himself. What an absolute clown.

For goodness’ sake.

17 thoughts on “Aimer jusqu’à la déchirure

    1. I’m sure he could! One of our childhood cats, Missy, used to shred any paper left lying around. So when we told our teachers that our cat ate our homework, we were telling the truth!

      Liked by 1 person

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