A Friendly Word Or Two For The Nice Folks Down The Hall

Just when I was starting to feel a tinge of what you might call the Christmas spirit, here I am once again wanting to hit a few people with a hammer.

Listen, anonimous pecker handles from down the hall. I don’t mind you having some friends over for drinks and fun. We’ll be doing that tonight, in fact. But what I do mind is you bum crumpets using the public hallway as your personal playground/running track at 4 in the morning. It’s really not necessary or appreciated. And whichever one of you arse fiddles hit the I’m stuck in the elevator button can choke on a clank. I’m sure it was an accident, but still, get fucked. While I’m at it, there was also no need for one of you to go all Martha by the Jesus Stewart on us when play time ended. I seriously could have done without all the foosh foosh bonk, cling clang foosh foosh bonk clang clong at that ungodly hour, you unapologetic chode harmonica.

Thankfully Carin slept through it all, but I wasn’t so fortunate. I’ve been awake ever since, so thanks for that.

If I knew which apartment was yours I’d be tempted to slip the Shoe Thief a few bucks and convince him to shit in your doorway after a healthy dose of rum and beer. It’s also tempting to run around the building like a stunned fucking idiot in the wee smalls of the day, but I won’t. I won’t because unlike you cocksicles I can hold my liquor. I won’t because unlike you pickle grinders I have respect for the people I share the hall with. Sometimes things get noisy during a party, I understand that. But at least have the common courtesy to contain your drunks in your own space. You may love them, but the rest of us want to gang rape their eye sockets, so keep them to yourselves.

Merry Christmas.

Love,

Steve

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  1. […] it appears we have a neighbour who is a pretty big chode harmonica. Why, oh why, oh why does this always happen to us? Well, I’m sure he is some kind of […]

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