Saturday, 9 June 2018

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 76

I’ve been enduring inflammation of a tendon in my wrist.  It is getting better, so I resume my blog about the three evils I encountered since arriving in Paris.  The Goliath-type predators stand before you like a wall, so there is a chance you can spot them and run the other way.  The second evil, the hypocrite sludge, save their smile for the people in power, while ruthlessly stomp over the weak, or in their term, the useless, and will walk away in search for another conquests.  The silver lining is that the sludge will leave you alone if you let them win on small scale battles.  The third type of evil is not that easy to shake off because those hyenas are after small gains that even the weak victims can give if you press their wounds hard enough.

The real estate agent of Jupiter was indignant with the offer made my Mme. Landlord.  Though she posed as a generous landlord by giving her tenant 6 months until November, the real estate agent knew of the French laws that forbids landlords to turn out tenants during the winter month staring December.  Mme. Landlord needed to get rid of Jupiter before winter, but she still wanted him to continue with the rent without her having to pay a fee to find a new short term tenant.  The real estate agent naturally knew of the renovation of the kitchen Jupiter had been tricked to pay.  For once, the real estate agent was on the side of the weak and a new room was quickly found for Jupiter.  In France, tenants only need to give one month notice no matter how long your contract is signed for.  So this, Jupiter did and he left the apartment immediately taking all the new electric appliances with him,

Mme. Landlord was enraged and demanded Jupiter to buy her new set of appliances.  Jupiter reminded her that her old appliances, such as refrigerator, were stored down in her basement.  Jupiter had carried them down there by Mme. Landlord’s request, but she now complained that the humidity of the basement had damaged them and held Jupiter responsible for it.  However, she would not tell me this.  She acted as a feeble old lady whose faith in Jupiter, despite his being gay minorities was cruelly betrayed.  She asked me weakly to accompany her when she would plead Jupiter to honor his obligations to restore her kitchen bathroom the way it was before the renovation. I would not dream of doubting Mme. Landlord then, so I confess I turned to Jupiter with reproaching eyes when he walked in.  He looked more sad than awkward by my presence as her ally.  I could not tell you the fast communication in French that took place between the two, but she remained imploring which rose my sympathy for her even more.


Jupiter left, looking very pained, and Mme. Landlord’s voice cracked explaining me that he agreed to reimburse her only partially.  How she detested the black wall paper and the modern shelves that he had installed in the place of her classic style kitchen…a lie it turned out to be later.  But I found myself offering to help her paint her apartment.  I had no ideas the price my sympathy would cost me, including the injury of my wrist which threatens my future as a graphic novelist.  I was going down the path that many immigrants, whom she had befriended to expoit, had  fallen before.  To be continued.

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