And indeed, that was the closest to the truth.
"And the prize for the most magnifique facial hair goes to…" the Mayor paused for drama. lafranceapoil
Once upon a time, in a crooked little village nestled between a drowsy volcano and a sea that refused to make up its mind, there lived a creature known only as Lafranceapoil . And indeed, that was the closest to the truth
Lafranceapoil decided to take matters into its own… follicles. It zipped onto the stage, landed on the Mayor’s bare upper lip, and attached itself with a decisive schloop . Lafranceapoil decided to take matters into its own…
Lafranceapoil puffed itself up, ready to accept its cheese.
No one was quite sure what Lafranceapoil was. Old Madam Baguette swore it was a cat that had learned to walk on two legs after swallowing a whole encyclopedia of French philosophy. Young Pierre, the baker’s apprentice, insisted it was a shape-shifting poodle, left behind by a mime who had wandered into a fog and never come back. The village children, however, had the simplest answer: Lafranceapoil was a moustache with ambitions.