When you hear the reports in the other blogs – and you will – please be sure to mention, somewhere in your comments, that I must’ve really been pushed because you, personally, never noticed a violent streak.
Come on! Do this for me! Tell them I was never violent, dammit!!
Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Apparently I was not meant to run on less than four hours of sleep.
That’s right, you heard me! Four stinkin’ hours of sleep, and you know why?
Because last night, starting at 1:20 and ending at an obscene hour that dares not speak its name during the work week, the downstairs folk took up door opening and closing.
All the kids are doing it.
Sure there were a couple “slams” in there – I mean, who could resist? – but primarily this was just a matter of wanting a cigarette every 20 minutes or so.
Shhhh. Let’s pretend we’ve been asleep.
Mmmm. This is nice. We should cuddle more often.
Wait.
You hear that?
That’s the sound, at 1:20, of someone opening the front door, the one directly under your bedroom.
And that? That’s the sound of them pushing the door shut, with a hip, if I’m any judge.
Now let’s wait 20 minutes, shall we?
And there it is! Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you the sound of the front door opening again, being shoved shut with a hip and – what’s this? Forget something on the porch? In an unprecedented move, the two-person cigarette-smoking team from the United States has gone back to the porch! Ladies and gentlemen! The Ukrainian judge has thrown his score cards to the ground but the Canadian judge is allowing it!
On and on it went, from bar-close until just before sunrise, during which I drifted in and out of a vengeful sleep.
I began composing letters in my head.
“Dear Inconsiderate Non-Full-Time-Working Nincompoops. How are you? I am fine…”
Sure, I could’ve called them, but why? It did not work the last six times they took up competitive smoking, and I don’t like the odds for the seventh.
The time for civility has ended.
I’m going to need a truncheon, a sleeping bag, and a good length of heavy-gauge chain.
And if anyone asks you, just tell them: You know, she seemed so normal…
Come on! Do this for me! Tell them I was never violent, dammit!!
Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Apparently I was not meant to run on less than four hours of sleep.
That’s right, you heard me! Four stinkin’ hours of sleep, and you know why?
Because last night, starting at 1:20 and ending at an obscene hour that dares not speak its name during the work week, the downstairs folk took up door opening and closing.
All the kids are doing it.
Sure there were a couple “slams” in there – I mean, who could resist? – but primarily this was just a matter of wanting a cigarette every 20 minutes or so.
Shhhh. Let’s pretend we’ve been asleep.
Mmmm. This is nice. We should cuddle more often.
Wait.
You hear that?
That’s the sound, at 1:20, of someone opening the front door, the one directly under your bedroom.
And that? That’s the sound of them pushing the door shut, with a hip, if I’m any judge.
Now let’s wait 20 minutes, shall we?
And there it is! Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you the sound of the front door opening again, being shoved shut with a hip and – what’s this? Forget something on the porch? In an unprecedented move, the two-person cigarette-smoking team from the United States has gone back to the porch! Ladies and gentlemen! The Ukrainian judge has thrown his score cards to the ground but the Canadian judge is allowing it!
On and on it went, from bar-close until just before sunrise, during which I drifted in and out of a vengeful sleep.
I began composing letters in my head.
“Dear Inconsiderate Non-Full-Time-Working Nincompoops. How are you? I am fine…”
Sure, I could’ve called them, but why? It did not work the last six times they took up competitive smoking, and I don’t like the odds for the seventh.
The time for civility has ended.
I’m going to need a truncheon, a sleeping bag, and a good length of heavy-gauge chain.
And if anyone asks you, just tell them: You know, she seemed so normal…
.jpg)
33 comments:
It couldn't be her...I know this woman and she is NOT, I repeat, NOT violent. How well do I know her? Wait, what are you writing down? I never met the woman, leave me alone.
Normal is highly over-rated.
I think you should sic Mary, or Mary's guy, or maybe their dog on 'em.
Either it's revenge for the leaf dumping, or you can use leaf dumping as revenge.
I'll go one step further. "Your honor, I know for a fact that she isn't capable of such a thing. Someone has clearly framed her."
A true jury of your peers....those folks who are sleep deprived from noisy downstairs neighbors....would never convict you.
I'd slip a copy of your letter to the landlord under their door.
Don't forget the Duct Tape, turning "Help! Help!" into "mmmmm! mmmm!" for 60 years.
I apologize for the Canadian judge's decision. Really, I'm sorry! Please forgive him/her. I'm so ashamed.
:)
That sounds pretty bad…where are the ear plugs?
Forget the truncheons, tape, and ear plugs.......go borrow TSB's tawse and turn them over your knee!
A lovely bit of writing and ranting.
Ah.......nincompoops and truncheon......two of my favorite words......thanks for reminding me of them.
I am thinking about getting a Korg Kaossilator Pro Dynamic Phrase Synthesizer. You being a musician eXtraordinaire should get one to respond to your neighneighborbors and just generalalal fun. Yes. ...
A bucket of water, perched on the railing above, which will tip and put out cigarettes below, is all you need.
That and a letter to the landlord.
Don't speak to them, they will start slamming doors every minute they can .. go straight to the top. Then come live with us in Argentina.
No one slams doors.. well, all except me. But that is another story. love you.
"I didn't see it coming."
I'll be sure to tell the authorities that I had no idea you were about to snap.
It couldn't have possibly been you since you were here with me the whole time. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I'm boiling just reading this!
Such folks really deserve to learn the facts of courtesy and not poking lions with sticks!
You were with me when it happened...
Aloha from Honolulu
Comfort Spiral
~ > < } } ( ° >
> < 3 3 3 ( ' >
><}}(°> ~
Officer, that's impossible. The woman is totally incapable of violence--even when she's been drinking with Liza Bean!
Sometimes a blow-up is no bad thing. Better out than in.
You need Mary and her sock full of oranges--BIG time.
I have said it before and I will say it again. Throw a bag of fine Valencia oranges into the deep freezer and after you beat the downstairs neighbors to death you can have some orange smoothies and the pathologist will have NO IDEA what made the bruises on your victims in the first place. Just trying to help a sister out. No bodies no crime.
I swear, that Canadian judge is on the take...
Problem is, after you do something rash, the media refers to you loudly by first, MIDDLE and last name, just like my parents when I was in trouble. It's just not worth it.
Aren't there some plants you need to water? Every twenty minutes. They're very needy, thirsty plants. But your downstairs neighbors might get wet? What a shame...
There are times when violence is justifiable. This sounds like one of them. For me, there are many, but for the Pearl I knew, there were very, very few...
You seem to have been in a number of places which clearly mean that you couldn't have broken every bone in their cancer stick polluted body. Feel free to add the capital of Oz to the list if it will help. If you can't beat them, confuse them. The judges I mean.
My neighbour had a squeaky front door, it was terrible seeing as it was right next to my bedroom window, to top that off the door was stiff and needed to be slammed to close it. I plotted all kinds of revenge, mainly at 3 or 4 in the morning.
Eventually though I watched and waited until I saw them leave for the day and snuck over there, weapons in hand... I lubricated the hinges and the lock through the keyhole and slept very well after that.
Pearl? no, it couldn't have been, she was visiting me here in Adelaide at the time. Look, she's left one of her gloves behind.
All night, they were at it? That's dedication.
They must've been smoking something good. Inhale, Pearl, inhale!
I used to live under two young women who couldn't have weighed 200 pounds added together. Even so, I believed that they were Elephant Ballerinas on Crack.
Trying very hard not to laugh inappropriately but failing miserably here. I do understand your pain at the lack of sleep, and how it can drive a person to thoughts of homicide...
and so glad right now that I live in the country and have cows across the road as neighbors...real cows, not the human kind...
Just rig the old bucket full of ice-cold water on top of their door tomorrow! :P
Post a Comment