I Long for Doris, Madness Begats Madness

I used to have a nice older lady neighbor Doris who smoked like a freight train. I never saw her smoke, but I could smell it from the exhaust of her dryer. One time I helped her carry a 24 pack of soda from her car, the door opened and the stench wafted over me as if it was an evil escaping from Pandora's box.

Now, a couple replaced them. They like to slam the door. Repeatedly. This has been going on since they moved in. I dont know if the door is broken but late at night, past midnight, even as late as 1 am, they slam the door with an intensity that makes me think, if only, if only they could replace the fervor they have for slamming the door and letting everyone know of their inner woes and anguish with a fervor for valium,or marijuana, all their aggression would not be privvy to everyone in building #6. In fact, I would say, even their need to go outside would be dispelled. Order take out chinese. Chill and watch the telee my friends. If money is a matter, get a job, get an injury, get disability, problem solved. Git R Dun!

So late at night, I snapped, after hearing one of them slam the door, shaking the building, peeling out of the parking lot, coming back to slam the door once again, but this time several times. Did the drive not simmer you down? Do you just have a forearm of a guerilla and lack the gentile touch? So...

I went outside my door in my boxers and slammed my door as hard as I could several times, and exclaimed "WTF! WTF? Can you hear that S**T? Cause I can hear YOUR S**T! WTF!" After a few moments of silence, I went back in, laid down to sleep.

I long for Doris.