Rush and Rue-lette

September 21st, 2008

Dear Upstairs Neighbour,

Hullo there! I hope this finds you well and that your nerves are not quite as fried as mine are after the recent “bad weather” and resulting “lack of air-conditioning” for nine days straight in 9th Circle of Hell Heat. You may have noticed that the cretinous landscapers have been by to chop down broken trees and scattered branches . . . and in the process they stacked said firewood in a 10ft wide by 5ft high bonfire in front of my windows. Which, unfortunately, also blocked the slightest chance of a breeze entering my apartment! Oh, those whacky illegal immigrants landscapers!

Do you recall the night after the piddling little hurricane how I very politely asked you not to keep tossing your cigarette dog-ends down onto my patio? How I offered to bring you something that would “pass as an ashtray”? How I might have mentioned that my front garden is not your personal dumping ground? After nine days without air-conditioning, violently puking from heat-stroke, a bloated torso from dehydration, a week’s worth of sleep deprivation, and constant promises of moments-away repairs from the lying leasing office, I must admit that I am a tad bit cantankerous! Ha! silly me, fancy allowing gut-wrenching misery to get to me!

I was wondering, being as we are, in fact, neighbours and all, if you would care to join me in a game of “Your Turn/My Turn”? Here’s how it goes:

Your Turn: You have there in your hand a packet of cigarettes. In and of itself it is quite harmless.

My Turn: I have here in the palm of my hand a 40-calibre bullet. In and of itself it is quite harmless.

Your Turn: You remove a cigarette from the packet. Again, still harmless.

My Turn: I now place the bullet into a clip. Again, still harmless.

Your Turn: You light your cigarette and take a long, slow inhale. Still harmless at this point.

My Turn: I slide the loaded clip into my Glock. Still harmless at this point.

Your Turn: You enjoy your cigarette down to its last fraction of an inch. Why shouldn’t you, there is no law against inhaling a carcinogen! There is, however, a law that entitles Americans to bear arms [even those of us with dual nationality!]. But I digress, kindly enjoy your cancer stick.

My Turn: I rack and chamber a load. Have I mentioned that I am a very good shot? In years past, I out-shot both my gun safety instructor and a Texas cop I used to date. No big deal, women are generally more accurate shooters anyway because of something to do with slower metabolism. Your turn.

Your Turn: You have a choice. You can extinguish your cigarette in an ashtray or, better yet, a fire-safe receptacle that will also quash any sparks. Or, you can toss your dog-end off your balcony and quite potentially have it land on or near the large pile of bone-dry firewood that is stacked up against my windows. Assuming you negligently accidentally succeed in igniting said bonfire, please keep in mind that your apartment will also go up in flames. Oh, and by way of reminder, I should mention that a mere two months ago some jackass managed to set on fire the laundry room that is a mere 25 yards from us, resulting in SIX apartments going up in flames.

My Turn: I have a choice. I am now pointing a loaded weapon at your chest. A weapon which in some peoples’ opinions is the “cause of death”. However, unless I choose to pull the trigger, then the weapon remains harmless. It is strictly MY choice as to what to do next.

Your Turn.

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Danjerus
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