The true horror stories in modern Paris part 54

The following morning, the sky of Paris looked gray white.  The crazy howling had finally subsided.  I could not contact the police for help, not after the compassionate Major has left the nearest station.  With the heavy sleepless head I went downstairs not knowing what to expect.  I looked into the restaurant glass façade.  Oddly, the floor had been cleaned.  Very much puzzled, I returned to the building.  Something told me to look into the residential garbage area.  I gasped.  It was filled with hundreds of empty drink bottles and a mountain of litters.  Mr. Pride had promised that his staff would take their litters out to the nearest commercial garbage station.  Like many other his promises, this was hardly observed.  Now it was up to the residents, like me, to clean up the mess because the employed cleaner would refuse to do more than what was in the contract. 

Paris revealed the dark side to me, but she was not done yet.  

It seems that there are three types of evils: First is the predators; the second is the sycophants who support and empower the predator; and the thirdthe hyenas.  In the trail left behind by the predators and the entourage, there lay their victims.  Weaken and helpless, desperate for a tiny hint of kindness.  They may not seem much, but most likely the easiest to exploit.  The hyenas know it.  It took me months to realize that I was standing next to one.  It was Mme. Landlord. 

To be continued.