I'll start by saying I just had to find some place to vent…vent what, I bet you're wondering…Well, how does my frustration, anger, sanity, sound?

With this thought in mind, I felt that writing a ramble would be the wise choice, since the alternative might involve the police and I really don't have the strength for that.

I'll apologize and warn you right now though of the immense profanity I shall be using, since there is no other way to describe my feelings adequately without a good, healthy dose of that.

If I haven't captured your attention yet, I hope I will with my story. If you've ever had a complaint against a neighbor or thought yourself unlucky for having such bad neighbors, join the club! Or preferably, try to live where I live for a little while. You see, my neighbors are driving me crazy. And the sad thing is (for me) that it's not just one, it's all of them! I'm living amongst animals that have developed the ability to walk on two feet! I'm not exaggerating, honest. Let me tell you a bit about them and allow you to decide for yourselves.

To my left, there lives a family, with two parents, three grown up children, their spouses and their army of children. Sounds idyllic, doesn't it? For them, maybe! They have the annoying sense that they live alone. They have full blown discussions and arguments among themselves, which include loud yelling by the way, with their front door wide open. They make use of public property as their own, park their million cars all around the driveway (when they don't even own one parking space) and have the audacity to let the wild animals they bred run amok under my window at all hours of the day and night!

To my right, there lives another family. This one has a lovely dog that is kept outside from one morning to the next, barking its huge head off constantly. To boot, they feel it is necessary to start drilling into our wall every few days, rattling the entire building in the process. But that's not all; we also have a piece of garden that is attached to theirs. Let me just say that we don't need the help of a gardener too often since they take it upon themselves to cut through all of our side of it each time they trim theirs.

And upstairs lives the loveliest family of all. Both parents are insane, and their two children, I'm sure, are the devil's spawns. The parents never seem to be at home, locking the two monsters away inside the house (not that I can blame them) whole they go out. But not that it matters anyway because when they are home, it's just about the same thing. The son, who should be locked up in a mental institute along with the rest of the neighborhood, in my humble opinion, doesn't go to school, nor does he do anything else other than try to drive me insane. He plays his stupid music at such frequency from 6am to midnight (and longer) that the walls of my room are literally shaking. When he's not doing that, he's drumming right on top of my head or yelling at the top of his monstrous lungs at one member of his family or another. I won't tell you how futile it has been to go upstairs and try to talk them, since I'm sure you can imagine that animals don't speak our language.

Does it make me a bad person then to envision all sorts of sordid scenes incorporating me, my neighbors and an assortment of weapons? I think not…

Anyhow, after relaying only the tip of the iceberg, I hope you will begin to cherish your own neighbors.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go kill the little bastard that lives upstairs…

 

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