Chapter Thirteen
Idiots
Paris. Yet another Hotel
“You i***t, Moron, Dolt,” screamed Silvia. “I have told you hundreds of times not to do this without my supervision. Now look what you have done.”
“We’ll clean it up,” muttered Jean, who was covered in plaster dust, broken pieces of ceiling and insulation. “We were just experimenting.”
“No doubt, Asshole,” Silvia spit. “Next time you want to hang people from the unreinforced ceiling, do it on your own property. Have you any idea how this is going to be fixed?”
“I already called the plumbers and they shut off the water pipes and drains from upstairs. The rest we can manage on our own and your house will be back to normal in a week or less. I’ll pay for it,” Doc Jean said. “I am sorry.”
“Ha,” said Silvia. “You won’t touch this mess bec
