True horror is the neighbors from Hell in modern Paris Part 14

My complete profile, if it was ever disclosed, would reveal all sorts of minority groups, starting with my gender and race.  I have been harassed on many levels throughout my life, but I lacked the stomach and power to carry out revenge.  This was a blessing in disguise because retribution eventually manifested itself, which inspired me to share it on this blog.  I quote many others before me that ‘True horror is hidden within man’.

EPISODE 14

Mme. HARMONY and I, together, headed for BASU, the authority that assessed and approved the infrastructure of restaurants.  Mme. HARMONY was sure that Mme. HEART had lied to the authority, but she was not prepared for the result.  ‘Incroyable!’ (unbelievable), she repeated it repeatedly as she read the copy of the restaurant permit granted to our restaurant from Hell. 

Mme. HEART had presented the building as if owned mainly by Mr PRIDE that any alteration was possible.  His letter attached to the file proved that he went along with it.  His claim to have possessed a legitimate extractor pipe was shameless out of many lies.  Mme. HARMONY informed me that the extractor pipe was fixed on the wall of the next-door building because the landlords of our building had refused the request of Mr PRIDE to install one.  Although France is the temple of gourmets, nobody wants restaurants in their building because the authority does not come around to supervise the breach of conduct.   

So, aided by this convenient custom, Mr PRIDE and Mme. HEART chose to run a restaurant on the illegal ventilation system and blast my apartment and my health away.  ‘What sort of upbringing did they have to have such a nerve?’  I blurted out.  Mme. HARMONY shrugged her shoulder.

‘I would not know.  They don’t come from a French family.’

‘What?  They’re immigrants like me?’

‘Well…technically, yes.’

So…it was another case of immigrants mounting on other immigrants who came later.   I don’t need this, but the French certainly do not need it in their backyards.  No wonder there is a movement among them who seek to reduce the incoming of immigrants.  

Mme. HARMONY left to inform this unpleasant discovery to the Board/le Syndic.  I went home, which was more like an inferno without flame.  My heart sped up as I entered my apartment.  I ran into the kitchen, a tiny sanctuary from the blowing force.  The earplugs I had purchased could not block out the noise, and the hard vibration struck my lungs and neck.  I should have been angry at Mr Pride and Mme. HEART who had no problems putting other human beings through this.  However, I know evil has no malice, which is still a human emotion.  Mme. HEART must believe her to be a lovely person and whoever got in her was the nasty vermin.  As for Mr Pride, I was not profitable enough to acknowledge as a human being.  Therefore, I saw no point in becoming angry at these predators void of human minds.  

My strange lack of anger helped me assess the situation with a cool head.  I would have to stay away from this Hell during the kitchen active hours in a library.  To soften the appliances’ noise piercing through their non-insulated ceiling and my floor at night, I must move the insulation material on my ceiling onto the floor.  It might sustain me until the Syndic right the wrong after the manager learned from Mme. HARMONY about the breach of the regulations by Mr PRIDE.

Sadly, I was still naïve and new to French society.   The Syndic sided with Mr PRIDE, the largest shareholder of the building, which gave him the power to fire the Ceo of Syndic.  At the end of the day, even Mme. HARMONY, French, but a small shareholder did not matter to the Syndic.  Even in the land of liberty, France could not escape the laws of money.

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