On the fifth floor of a Parisian building, a small skeleton is hopping.
He is followed by a woman armed with a shield, a potato and a man with the head of an ibis.
Further on, an RATP controller demands a ticket from everyone, which he punches while humming Gainsbourg: “
Small holes, small holes…
” It's not a psychedelic trip, but a party.
Her theme: wear a disguise evoking a subway station.
The human potato designates Parmentier, the woman wearing a bouquet of parsley, Maraîchers.
The evening promises to be watered.
Indeed, she is.
We drink, we dance, we smoke, we talk about Sade, about God and… we die.
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A guest falls from the balcony.
His death is brutal, absurd, unjust.
His friends go to his funeral, Mr. Leseudre too, the server for the evening.
Change of chapter.
A guest breaks his neck falling down the stairs.
Is this still an accident?
His friends reunite at church, a
"funny fellow with a bump"
...
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