Day 2 in Paris. Too much Pernod last night. Got back to my room (2nd floor right) at 3am. At 9am there's a knock on my door. "Scram" I commanded but then I heard a girl sobbing - Sill Too Play or something so sucker me I opened it. The "girl" turns out to be a big thug who slaps me around and yells at me in French. No clue what he said but I got the message. Then I gave him mine, four claws in the family jewels. You shoulda seen 6 feet of Frog come down to my level in a hurry. We'll see who'll sill too play I tells him, then I give him a good knock on his beret with my 44. Tell whoever sent you to send a real hood next time, I tells him, and then I push him down the stairs.
That gave me an appetite so I head dowstairs to check out the Restau. 6 and 1/2 francs for some pretty tasty steak frites. Jean Claude, le patron d'hotel and chef, looks at me, asks, "Est-ce que vous avez eu des problemes, monsieur?" "Pas de problemes, Jean Claude" I replies, "Pas de problemes." At that moment I thought I didn't. Little did I suspect what was coming next.
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