The Trojans

The plan is brilliant.
We are French, after all.
We shipped the statue in pieces for assembly in the harbor.
The torso of the statue was large enough to hold 500 soldiers. Our weapons are in the torch.
Vive la France, New Paris!
In the middle of the night, we are to crawl out the door and begin the invasion.
“Where’s the door?” I, the commander, asks.
We tapped out a message of surrender to a confused workcrew on the outside.
Ransom is such a dirty word. The diplomats will smooth it over with a gift of wine and cheese.