Somehow ten years ago my friend from Toronto decided to invest his retirement savings in the house under construction. Even at the design stage, he bought a large apartment; The house was erected in a good location, overlooking the lake and with a convenient transport structure. The prices for housing and rent were steadily growing, and it seemed that such an investment would certainly be successful. When the house was built, a certain percentage of the area the developer gave to the city authorities, say, ten apartments out of a hundred, they have such rules, and the city took and settled in these apartments the Vietnamese.

On this plan to earn from my friend ran out. It's clear that Canadians are not racists, their countrymen and relatives went on a continuous tour to the Vietnamese, the smells of national cuisine spread throughout the house, in short, the price of apartments in this house did not grow, some tenants moved out, and they did not agree to rent housing in it many.

A Frenchman came to my house. I bought an apartment when the house was giving up, I did not do repairs for ten years, then I did it for a year, tortured the whole entrance, and I recently moved in.

Last night the whole house woke up with heartbreaking women's cries and men's screams, which, with the windows and balconies open, were audible to everyone.

Men rushed to the courtyard in search of a source of ever-increasing screams, now they were joined by sounds of beating dishes and breaking furniture, someone called the police. It turned out that this is in the Frenchman's apartment. Midnight continued kipish, a drunken Parisian with a broken face, his half-naked disheveled roommate, policemen, a lift back and forth.. In general, the house was gone.

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