THE FRENCH WAITER ASKED IF I WOULD LIKE A CHICKEN GOUJON

The french waiter asked if I would like a chicken goujon. I was struck dumb by the weighty beauty of the word. I glazed over in rapture, softly repeating the word goujon over and over. "Yes, Monsieur", the waiter said, getting a little testy. "Would you like one?" I could faintly recognize that someone was speaking to me in my human body life, but at this point I was far away in a deep crreamy place in which the word goujon surrounded me and tickled all my five senses seductively, even seeming to massage a hitherto unknown sixth sense with it's majestic power. Without doubt they would soon have my body wrapped in a straitjacket and hauled off to the funny farm. I hoped they would serve some kind of Goujon there on fridays.