The selfish love to party, and dance on corpses on the floor-part 17


Under the normal circumstance, I would have brushed away Cecile and her freeloading excuse for a man from my mind.  But I was at rock bottom, mentally and physically; their harsh conduct really hurt me.  It felt like an emergency, and who do you contact in an emergency?  The Police station where Major B was stationed!  He was the one who stopped the restaurant from Hell from making noise after 22:30 for three nights.  He even later rang me to check if the restaurant stayed silent after he left that his number was left on my phone.  I wished to be allowed to sit inside the police station for the night. 

The compassionate Major B came out to meet me himself.  I was most grateful for his warm words.  A chair would have done for me, but the major arranged for me to stay inside a secured detention cell to protect me from criminals and drug addicts.  I was given total privacy and security.  The reality did not hit me until I smelt the stench of the cell, but this was the only safe sanctuary in Paris for me that night…while Cecile danced away at her home party; Mr PRIDE and Mme  HEART relaxed in their fluffy bed.  

I should be leaving France after two French dealt me a harsh blow as I had always told myself I would, but I remembered Mme HARMONY referring to Cecile as a non-Parisian.  She was from a French region, and her humble folks had the luck of purchasing an apartment in the old corner of Paris before the recent price hike.  I was not impressed with the disdain in Mme HARMONY's tone as she spoke of the folks of humble origin, but Cecile did not show good breeding either.  So I reset my threshold: Only a blue Parisian can drive me out of France.  

At 05:00 am, I had to vacate the cell.  That was the condition, and I thanked all the officers.  They had seen a lot of things, but a sober Japanese woman politely seeking refuge in their detention room must have been their first.  She was now walking out with a grateful smile on her face.  Even in my predicament, the French officers' expressions amused me.  I slowly walked back home, observing the numerous activities in the early morning in Paris.  So many people are working hard to support this city of love, yet never acknowledged.  When this predicament was behind me, I would remember to live in Paris with gratitude for these honest, true Parisians. 

I opted to wait across my building for my electrician, who would check out my electricity system and witness the electricity flood in my apartment.  BUT he was late!  As usual in Paris, he would not come for two more hours.  In the meantime, the team of staff went inside the restaurant.  If you think I imagined the entire electricity flood, you would know I was not when I told you what happened next. 

An ambulance arrived, and a man whose face was blue, literally blue, was carried out from the restaurant from Hell.  His attire looked like that of the kitchen staff.  Mr. PRIDE had not installed an earth pole IN THE COMMERCIAL KITCHEN!  I know this because Mr. PRIDE later boasted to Mme HARMONY that he installed one for my sake.  However, earthing should have been taken care of BEFORE the restaurant's opening.  This shows the extreme extent of his stinginess.

Then the chef from Hell came out of the restaurant, looking very nervous.  He saw me, and his eyes widened.  Now, this was the man recently prosecuted for multi-frauds.  It took a lot to startle him but did he think he saw my ghost?  He forced a smile and murmured, 'We will use more wood so that electricity does not…' He stopped realizing it would incriminate him.  

Lucky for him my electrician was late, and by the time he arrived, the restaurant had cut off its electricity.  My electrician could not find power leakage but found no fault with the system in my apartment either.  He recorded it in a letter that my lawyer sent to the CEO of the Syndic.  The CEO would have ignored my plight as usual, but the CEO had to protect Mr. PRIDE from troubles.  The restaurant from Hell had gone beyond bullying; thus, Mr. PRIDE must now pay to fix the problem and cover his track.  He would finally install a metal hood over his cooking ventilator, as done in every other commercial kitchen.  The hell noise stopped at last.

Mirror that reflects your soul

Then suddenly my phone rang, and it was my mother in Japan.  My father had just died….before I could invite him to Paris!  I would have done so sooner had it not been for the noise from the restaurant from Hell.  As the police acknowledged, Mr. PRIDE had rendered my apartment inhabitable.  My father's last dream of living in Paris was deprived by one man who did not care for people other than his wealthy circle, who passed himself as a respectable figure.  However, no amount of cover-ups or religion would shield his sin from the universe.  I just had to believe it to retain my sanity as I flew to Japan.  

My father had died of stroke…instantly.  The soft expression on his face indicated no suffering in his last moments, which was a sole consolation to me, who was full of regrets. …I don't know how I managed to hold myself together as his coffin slid toward the burner.  

I would stay in Japan for a few months, during which my body recovered from the damage incurred by infrasound and what have you from the restaurant from Hell.  I felt my father look after me even from beyond his grave.  I remembered the invisible hand waking me up from sleep on the night when Mr PRIDE and his chef attempted to electrocute me and make it look like an accidental death.   Was it my father's spirit?  No, he still was alive that night.  So it had to be someone else.