Showing posts with label piston. Show all posts
Showing posts with label piston. Show all posts

Wednesday, 4 October 2017

The bullied takes on Goliath in the true horror stories in modern Paris part 42

I normally update weekly, but I felt the need to explain the title.  You would not consider a group of unethical restaurant team ‘Goliath’, but the protector behind them really is a Goliath.  He is a public figure in Paris whose photo you can see on a few sites.  What gets to me is that he bills himself as ‘a protector of the weak and the minority.’  However, his favorite, Mme. Empathy has been causing hazard in Paris.  She was sued by all the neighbours of her last restaurant for being disrespectful of the well-being of her neighbours.  And yet, this Goliath, or should I name him Mr. Honour, has allowed Mme. Empathy to start restaurants again and again. 

I remember one night when the music in the restaurant was not on.  I saw a man who conducted himself as ‘an important man’ dine at the restaurant with Mme. Empathy serving him herself.  This is why I recognized the man in the photo.  Mr. Honour sure knows about my dire circumstances and yet he would step into repeatedly to sabotage my moves.  Well, if he does not care for the well-being of Asians, fine.  Then he should not go around making speeches encouraging Asians to visit Paris to drop their money.  Mr. Honour should not pose as a protector of the weak when he has sabotaged the 2 years-plea of Mme. Landlord for intervention of the authority.  She is a fragile old French lady suffering from cancer, for God’s sake.

The only branch that is yet to be corrupted by favoritism or in French 'Piston' is the French judicial system, thank God.   However, their procedures take the looooongest.  To be continued.
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Sunday, 17 September 2017

The true horror stories in modern Paris Part 39

I came to with foggy mind with spasm in one eyelid, but it could have been worse.  My blood pressure which the restaurant had pushed a skyrocket high, was somewhat under control thanks to this potion its recipe is known among Japanese, or at least passed down among my family.  I chose to make it regularly when I embarked on this losing battle against the big money, Mr. Pride, and the queen of manipulation, Mme. Empathy.  They would have liked me to shrivel up like a dead insect and disappear, taking Mme. Landlord down with me, but I was not going to make it that easy for the enemies.  I could practice acupuncture on my own which helped putting my daily disrupted system back to some what normal.  Thus, Mme. Empathy looked puzzled when I walked past her restaurant appearing to be calm.  The truth is I was staggering but I was holding myself together with a sheer mind power.  She still needed to receive the writ of my lawsuit and my lawyer had advised me not to raise any suspicion in her mind lest she refuses to receive.

But there was another reason I had to escape my apartment.  Some long-time readers of my blog would recall a woman named Leila in the earlier episodes of True Horror Stories in Pairs series.  Introduced in my episode 7, she was a disturbed woman who held grudge against all the Parisians who would not befriend her.  She took her frustration out on the previous tenant of my apartment by repeatedly harassing the aged old man.  He barely escaped but an anonymous letter was posted to her as a warning that her malicious, bordering on murderous, intention was in fact noted.  Leila turned her toxic eyes on me, but could not touch me for a while.  Until one day she found me staggering out of my apartment and discovered that I was living in a hellish environment.  She sensed my newly developed weakness, worn down by this sound hypersensitivity.  Since then her tenacious midnight washing started and it tormented my senses already tattered by the restaurant during the day and evening.  I was fighting two evils, Leila and the restaurant from Hell.

The long-time readers would remember that Leila was removed from my life after my small act of kindness to a stranger.  My voice was slightly shaking from excess stress because Mme. Empathy held another blasting loud music party night.  Notwithstanding, I mastered up my sense of obligation to provide help when asked for it.  A poetic justice was delivered and Leila and her toxic fiancé was gone.  The restaurant from the Hell however was too strong.  The authority was on their side because of Mme. Empathy’s connection.  My lawyer assured me that the judicial system is still safe from corruption calls PISTON in French.  Hoping against hope, I accessed the internet site of the post office.  A green big check appeared on the scene.  The writ of my lawsuit had finally been accepted officially by someone from the restaurant.

To be continued 

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