An Altercation With the French

We all know how it ends.

By Zach

I got home last night before my girlfriend. Good guy that I am, I went to go meet her on the way back from the subway and hopefully dissuade any hobos from dragging her into the sewer, as I assume they are wont to do in Brooklyn at 1:30 at night.

We got back to our third floor walk-up and readied ourselves for bed, putting on our matching PJs and headgear (she has dental problems; I wear it out of solidarity). This involved a bit of walking between the bathroom and bedroom, and not much else.

Suddenly, as we’re brushing our teeth, we hear a knock. I go to answer it. At the door is a small, sleepy and very irate Frenchwoman, who tells us that she and her boyfriend in the apartment below can hear EVERY step we take and even though we don’t think about it we’re really loud and we need to walk more lightly and talk less and make less noise and that we need to be more conscious of this.

I’m apologetic. I’ve never met the girl before, so I try introducing myself. She’s not having it. On and on she goes, in my mind for an hour and in reality probably for at least three minutes. And finally, mercifully, she leaves.

I immediately wonder what we’ve done to evoke such hostility. I suspect they’ve seen my mail; they must know my last name is German. Well, downstairs Frenchies, it is German. And I plan on retaliating.

First, their kittens. Alsace and Lorraine. I plan on kidnapping both. Our British neighbor on the first floor saw me eying them a few weeks ago, but he’s puny. I can take him. Also, he has bad teeth and low self esteem.

Then, I’ll start slowly start encroaching on their turf. Leave my sneakers outside, hang my coat up next to the door. They’ll get the message.

I’ll continue my hostile takeover by stealing their parking spot outside on the street. Not too worried about that; my Volkswagen will easily be able to nudge their Peugeot in front of a hydrant.

Finally, I’ll go through Belgium. Belgium is our neighbor in the basement, and when I was talking to her the other day I learned that she has a spare key for the hated French couple in question.

After acquiring this spare key under some pretense, it will be time to invade.

I’ll be able to sneak into the apartment (with a mask to protect myself from the odor, of course) and plant dead fish in their Parisian blinds. Then I’ll slip laxatives in their wine, coat the top of their bidet with Krazy Glue, and splash red paint all over the white flags I presume they adorn their walls with. Of course, I’ll make a copy of the key afterward so I can occupy their apartment whenever I want.

There’s no doubt in my mind that once they discover what I’ve done, they’ll collaborate with me to achieve a solution beneficial to both parties. And if they hear German footsteps above them again, they’d better fucking think twice this time.

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One thought on “An Altercation With the French

  1. collapsing jack
    I don’t unremarkably comment but I gotta state thanks for the post on this amazing one : D.

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