So lean back on the ever reliable shoulder of your siamese twin brother, read to him the following, ask him what the French words in the following story mean and enjoy...
AUTOMATIC LIAR / LE MENTEUR AUTOMATIQUE
"You're a gossip."
"I'm a conduit of truth. I just don't like to hoard knowledge." He drunkenly smiles and takes a sip from his one foot tall tikki mug. It's full of Maudite, an 8% beer from Quebec. The official fuel of party animals all across Canada. Cheers.
She takes a sip from her Strong-bow.
"I met this guy the other night who was a liar, though."
"A fucking liar," she corrects and pokes him in the chest with the top of her bottle.
"Un sal menteur !!" he rejoins and raises his mug for a toast. "A sa sal sante !!"
Shouts break out from those at the party who know French and other glasses are raised.
"This fucking liar told me that he was a siamese twin who was separated at birth from his mentally handicapped brother who as a teen tried to impregnate golf clubs. Weird dirty liar kind of stuff. This sal menteur was also telling me about how his brother was only mentally retarded part time because he would also channel spirits which made him look sort of normal for an hour or two. And then this dirty liar told me he had grown up to become a surgeon who specialized in separating siamese twins. Lying fucking liar."
"What a liar," she shouts.
"And he wanted me to buy him beers ! A surgeon ! And he needs me to buy him beers ?" He quiets down to whisper his name.
"You're a gossip," she shouts.
"I'm a conduit of truth !"
And his lie is complete.