The PopeLE PAPE, the Dalai Lama, and the Archbishop of Canterbury decide to go fishing. They hireILS LOUÈRENT a boat and row outRAMÈRENT AU LARGE to the middle of a lake. It is a scorching dayUNE JOURNÉE TORRIDE, and within an hour or two they have finished all the beer.
“Let’s row back to shoreREVÎNMES À LA RIVE EN RAMANT and get a carry-outDE QUOI BOIRE À EMPORTER AU PUB from the local pub,” says the Pope.
“No need,” says the Dalai Lama. He steps over the sidePASSA PAR-DESSUS LE BORD of the boat and calmly walks across the surface of the water to the shoreLA RIVE. Ten minutes later, he returns with more beer and steps into the boatREMONTA DANS LE BATEAU.
Half an hour later, they run out of beerILS N’EURENT PLUS DE BIÈRE again.
“My turn,” says the Pope. He peersIL REGARDA ATTENTIVEMENT over the side and breaks into a broad smileAFFICHA UN LARGE SOURIRE. He steps over and walks across the water, returning shortly after with more beer, strollingSE PROMENANT TRANQUILLEMENT back to the boat.
Another half hour passes, and once again the beer is gone.
The Archbishop steps over the side of the boat and immediately sinks below the surfaceCOULA SOUS LA SURFACE. The other two haul him back aboardLE HISSAIENT À BORD. As he lies there coughingTOUSSAIT and splutteringCRACHAIT DE L’EAU, the Pope says, “Do you think we should have told him about the stepping stonesLES PASSE-PIERRES?”
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