C’est Jaune

Wednesday, June 6th, 2012

Hello to all tambourines falling down stairs, (CRASH *wince* CRASH *wince* CRASH *wince*), cats eating grass, lizards running loose in basements, and macaroni dinners.

Last night I was having trouble sleeping. This isn’t a rare occurrence– usually when I can’t sleep, I read my favorite scenes from Percy Jackson and scribble some drawings, or walk in circles trying not to panic, or stare at the bottom of the bunk bed and count the staples that, I hope, are not the only thing keeping it from falling and creating a blogger sandwich.

I turned on the TV around midnight, planning to watch something brainless (like an infomercial for mustache wax), and paused at one of the French channels. I watched for a moment, just about to change the channel again. Quickly I realized this was some kind of middle-of-the-night, ten sleepless Quebecers are watching this type thing. You were supposed to guess what the ‘jaune’ thing could be– what the yellow thing was, for twenty eight hundred dollars. Well, I thought, there’s nothing else on– might as well watch and see if I can guess it.

Ten minutes passed. I sat back and smirked at all the wrong answers callers gave, (ble was one, which is wheat for all you non-French people out there), and by the way, wheat is not really yellow– I’d say more of a brownish yellow. But it all depends at what stage your wheat is. New wheat, old wheat– red wheat, blue wheat. Um, anyhow, all the callers gave the wrong answers. Half an hour passed.

I was still watching. Somebody guess the freaking thing! The girl began to look a little harried– so the producers let her make the prize three thousand now. Five minutes later she put in a hint– the yellow thing was in fact a fruit. So, ‘cantaloupe?’ the next guy suggested. Cantaloupe– yellow? Obviously this guy needs to get to sleep. Twenty more minutes passed, and still nobody had an answer– the girl kept talking, saying the same things over and over, and with each passing minute she started to look more and more frenzied. ‘Come on, yellow, a yellow fruit, I know you can guess it, there at home, maybe you had it in your breakfast this morning, maybe you’re eating it RIGHT NOW.’

Twenty more minutes passed.

By this time there was absolutely no way for me to stop watching. I had to know what the yellow fruit was. I stared at the TV screen, as the poor girl tried to keep smiling and kept saying, ‘I’m certain the next caller will have my answer! Come on, think about it! Use your heads!’

I was using my head. I was. I thought, it must be a mango. What else could it be?

Now it was nearing one thirty in the morning. Still there was no answer. So what did I do? Well, I couldn’t take this anymore. I had to solve the question. Besides, there was four thousand dollars to win. But it wasn’t really the money I was thinking about most–  it was the fact that the poor girl looked like she was going to cry soon and I wanted to help her out.

So I ran up stairs, grabbed the phone, and came back down.  I watched for a few more minutes, to see if someone else would call in with an answer– and then, at one thirty in the morning I called the French TV show– against all better judgement. But I HAD to fix this. The poor girl! Those freaking stupid French people and their wrong answers!

I called them, but I kept having to press one, for some reason. ‘Vous etes tellement proche!’ the recorded voice said in my ear. I was fully aware each ‘1’ was most probably another dollar, but I was committed at this point. So, when I reached the last ‘1’, the recording told me Good job! and all I got after that was a dial tone.

So fifteen more minutes of watching Instant-Gagnant.

I called again. The girl was going to stroke out really soon. But again all I got was a dial tone.

Aha! A moment of insight– I could try calling the cellphone line instead. So I plugged in my never-used cellphone, twitching with impatience, watching the host walk around begging people to give her an answer.

‘We have one minute and forty seconds left!’ the girl said, probably pleased it was almost over. I looked at my cellphone. Charging. I looked at the TV. No one’s calling in. I looked at my cellphone. Charging. I looked at the TV. No one’s calling in.

At this point I just wanted the thing to end for the love of God. It managed to stretch on at least another five minutes, and then, feeling agonized, for my cellphone hadn’t charged in time, I watched her open the envelope.

‘It’s the hand of buddha!’ she said.


I turned off the TV, disgusted. I was so worn out by an hour and a half of watching people guess the wrong yellow thing that I fell asleep pretty quick.

I will never watch that again. Ever.


2 comments on “C’est Jaune

  1. Michael says:

    I was thinking it’d be a banana. The hand of Buddha makes no sense whatsoever.

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