Subject: self-centered airborne

From: "Raphael Mayo" <[email-masked]>
Date: Sat, 9 Sep 2006 08:36:45 +0900

He glides over the carpet, with a solemn priest-likeair.
He seemed to know all abouthotel work, and up till midday he worked like a slave. XVITime went on and the Auberge de Jehan Cottard showed no signs ofopening.
XVITime went on and the Auberge de Jehan Cottard showed no signs ofopening. Youre not fit to scrub floors in the brothel your mother camefrom. The noise was deafening, for everyonewas either talking at the top of his voice or singing.
The doorkeeper never paid methis either, and so made away with another seventy-five francs. I cannot convey the blasphemy of such a remark.
Perhaps ithardly matters whether such o people are swindled or not. Listen to thisstory, that I am about to tell you.
Then about midnight therewas a piercing shout of CITOYENS! A blond, red-faced workman had risen to his feet and was banging a bottleon the table.
The only good thing was,I had my rent paid in advance. Theonly food at the Hotel X which was ever prepared cleanly was the staffs,and the PATRONS. But I am an atheist and I didnt really believe that anything wouldcome of it.
Below the manager came the MAITRE DHOTEL.
It was a girl called Maria, a big fat peasant girl who livedat our hotel.
One of thekitchen PLONGEURS at the Hotel X, a German, was well known as aDEBROUILLARD.
Mario had told me of a sureremedy for them, namely pepper, strewed thick over the bedclothes. The room had a dirty, mixed smell of food and sweat.
Once I suggested killing these beasts to Mario. I had bought it weeks before, for an oil lamp I had before Isold my things. Youre not fit to scrub floors in the brothel your mother camefrom.
Youre not fit to scrub floors in the brothel your mother camefrom.
If a man idles, theothers soon find him out, and conspire against him to get him sacked. He glides over the carpet, with a solemn priest-likeair.
At that level, the mere power to go on working like an oxis about the only virtue attainable. It appeared that he had played this game at half the hotels andrestaurants in Paris. Its no good; the cheapest cigarettes are twelve sous apacket.
It was a girl called Maria, a big fat peasant girl who livedat our hotel. Presently the toast falls among thefilthy sawdust on the floor. His work gives himthe mentality, not of a workman, but of a snob. Everyone in the BISTRO began shouting together,VIVE LALLEMAGNE!