Shitty Apartment

My new neighbors to the north are really starting to piss me off. This is a letter I slipped under their door today...




Dear Sirs:

My name is Blake, and I live in the apartment below yours. I don't recall your names, but we've shared "hello's" in the laundry room on several occasions. I wish that I would be writing this letter in good spirits, but unfortunately this is not the case. As I'm sure you are aware by now, I am referring to the events that transpired last night. As a recap:

9:30am: A loud rumbling sound woke me up from pleasant slumbers. I recall a very nice dream in which I was set free in a zoo to play with all the animals. The animals could speak too! When I woke up, I first figured there was a thunderstorm outside. When I looked outside and saw clear skies, I then assumed you were hosting a bowling tournament in your apartment. Quickly I realized that you certainly would not have the resources or connections to arrange a bowling tournament. Finally, I used logic and figured out that you were listening to a very loud action movie (Terminator?).

While I usually get very grumpy on being woken up early on Sundays, yesterday was different. You see, a friend of mine and myself have made attending brunch a new bi-monthly tradition. So we headed over to Salt & Pepper on Clark Street for an outstanding meal (the pancakes are out of this world!).

10:30pm: I return home after watching There Will Be Blood at the Landmark Century Cinema. It was fantastic; a true tour-de-force by PT Anderson (perhaps the greatest director of our generation...well Wes Anderson may take that title, but I digress). After showering, I put on my robe, played some guitar hero (I'm on expert now!) and was ready to call it a night. But again I heard that sound! It was very similar to the sound from earlier in the morning, only much louder and more obnoxious (Terminator II?). Frustrated, I grabbed a lacrosse stick and poked the ceiling, hoping this would be a sufficient warning.

11:00pm: The noise was still there. This time I poked harder and even yelled, "Hey turn it down!" I assumed any reasonable person would understand that I was getting ready for the start of a grueling work week, and as such needed some quality rest.

11:15pm: Sound still there. I walk up to your floor and hear you and presumably your roommate talking. I knock on the door several times. Immediately, your voices halted. No one answered the door. You are cowards.

11:17pm: The volume is now louder. I am getting very, very angry.

1:00am: Now the sounds of an action movie has been replaced with terrible reggae music. I storm up to your room, pound on your door as hard as I can and scream "TURN THE FUCKING MUSIC OFF YOU ASSHOLES!"

1:02am: Once again, no change. I take 2 anxiety pills and downloaded "sounds of the ocean" which helped me sleep despite shitty reggae music blaring into my room.

Gentlemen, I am not a man of violence, and please do not consider this a threat, but I have been greatly disrespected. And not to get into details, but NO ONE FUCKS WITH BLAKE [REDACTED]! I have been lifting weights constantly, taking protein supplements, and as such I believe my testosterone levels have increased. I've grown back acne and hairs in undesirable places. But I've also grown bigger muscles and a temper.

This all being said, please do not make this difficult on me. We can be friends, even though I am your superior. Big L said it best: "I got more riches than you, I got more bitches than you, only thing I don't have is more stitches than you".

So please, cut the shit.

Or else.

Sincerely,

Blake [Redacted]