Seen by stunned tourists, the famous smile crossed the room in soft, muffled little steps, leaving a rectangular void on the wall.
Spotted later in a bakery in the 1st arrondissement, the Renaissance star reportedly asked, “the most discreet croissant, please.”
Controlled panic at the Louvre this morning: at precisely 7:42 a.m., the Mona Lisa unhooked her own frame, cast one last look at the crowd, then left the room as if nothing were amiss. In the security footage, she can be seen checking her reflection in a postcard display before slipping away, as if to say, “Don’t we know each other?” According to a source close to the varnish, she took only one corridor—“the brightest one, obviously.”
A few streets away, the baker on rue du Coq-Calme recounts the scene like a buttery dream. “She came in, very polite, and said: ‘I’ve been smiling for 500 years; I’m entitled to a puff pastry.’” Then, turning to the astonished customers, she supposedly added: “Don’t worry, I don’t bite—I crunch.” Before paying, the most-guarded painting in the world even requested an opaque bag “so as not to attract the flashes.”
Back at the museum, experts are jostling for space. One curator claims that “the panel’s wood must have heard the call of the brioche,” while a conservator speaks of a “seasonal migration of oils toward fats.” Our in-house specialist in art that walks by itself insists that the Mona Lisa “has long-distance legs: you can tell, from the composition, that she’s hiding calves.”
Around 11:03, the fugitive, croissant consumed, is said to have calmly returned to her frame, leaving a little note on the wall: “Please do not touch, my fingers are buttery.” “I saw nothing, heard nothing—just caught a whiff of pastry passing by,” claims a guard, before adding, hand on heart: “It’s the first time a work has asked me for an Americano.”
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