Être, meanwhile, thought Parler was boring. “Rules are for furniture,” he’d scoff. “I am je suis today, but tomorrow? Who knows? Maybe je serai (future tense of être)!”
was a regular verb. He was predictable, calm, and followed every rule. Every morning, he would look in the mirror and recite his daily routine: Je parle, tu parles, il parle, nous parlons, vous parlez, ils parlent . His life was an orderly pattern of -er endings. He liked to donner (give) gifts on time, aimer (love) his routine, and travailler (work) at the same café at the same hour. Everyone in the neighborhood knew they could count on Monsieur Parler.
The English sentence smiled, understood, and ran off to its grammar book.
And they all lived happily ever after, one conjugation at a time.
One day, a disaster struck the Rue des Verbes. A lost English sentence wandered into the street. It was confused and couldn’t find its way home. “Help me!” it cried. “I need to say: I spoke to my friend. ”
The English sentence grew more desperate. “What about: I went to the store ?”
