Saturday, January 25, 2003 :::
So When You See Your Neighbor Carryin' Somethin': or, I Live Next Door To A Bulemic Ax-Murderer
I have a weird neighbor. Eight out of ten times I go out the door to leave or have a cigarette, her toilet flushes. It just happened ten minutes ago. So I thought maybe she was bulemic. Another thing, these apartments I live in are just big cinderblock cubes stacked on top of one another. Everybody has heavy, sliding wooden doors on our closets, so when your neighbor opens the closet, you know it. I keep my clothes in my closet and maybe open it once or twice a day. She must open hers thirty times a day. She has a burst of opening-the-closet-activity every morning about 2 or 3 AM. I usually go to bed about midnight or a little after, and every night wake up a couple hours later to her booming doors. She just opened her closet now, even as I type.
I can't imagine what anyone could keep in their closet that they would have to get to it that many times a day. The only thing I can think of would be some liquor or a huge supply of crack, but she lives alone, so who's she hiding it from?
To add to the toilet-flushing saga, last week I was outside smoking, I heard several times, large splashes in her toilet, followed by choking, flushing, sound. The only logical conclusion is that she is an ax-murderer. She hides the bodies in her closet, chops them up, and flushes them down the toilet. Someday soon, you will turn on the evening news and see me standing there saying: "I don't know, she was kinda quiet. Kept to herself."
Quote of the Day:
This second night we run between seven and eight hours, with a current that was making over four mile an hour. We catched fish, and talked, and we took a swim now and then to keep off the sleepiness. It was kind of solemn, drifting down the big still river, laying on our backs looking up at the stars, and we didn't ever feel like talking loud, and it warn't often that we laughed, only a little kind of a low chuckle. We had mighty good weather, as a general thing, and nothing ever happened to us at all, that night, nor the next, nor the next.
--- Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
Reading:
A Brief Narrative of the Case and Trial of John Peter Zenger , by John Peter Zenger (1736).
The Federalist #78, by Alexander Hamilton.
::: posted by tom at 10:27 PM
