Oh I'm truly a sick motherfucker in case you didn't already know.
My upstairs neighbor, the one right above me who has been the bane of my existence here for the past year now, occasionally* has these little kids over, one of whom, at least, is likely hers. Anyway, the second they arrive in the parking lot I can tell 'cause these kids literally never shut up. I have no fucking idea how the adult or adults around them can hold back from just bitch slappin' these little terrors.
(*I say occasionally like it's totally happenstance but I'm sure there's some "arrangement" of when they come over. I don't know her situation. Although I did a bit of sleuthing a while back and I think I may know her name and background to some extent (including the eerie coincidence that she may have lived for a while in Woonsocket, RI! I think I posted about this before.)
Thankfully I'm not friendly with them upstairs 'cause if I was and she ever dared ask if I could "watch" them I'd have to clamp my mouth shut to prevent me telling her that I'd likely kill the fuckin' brats, chop them up, bag 'em and toss them in the dumpster. When they would ask where the kids are I'd play dumb and say "What kids?"
Anyway, again, I can hear them almost non-stop whenever they are here. Thankfully, their squacky, squeaking fingernails-on-blackboard voices are stifled from my ears once they are inside up there (yeah, the floors are thin but not THAT thin where I could hear them talking) but their pitter-patter ever-present footsteps are incessant. So they're not only noisy, they're hyper too.
Oh they'd definitely be roach food buried in the bowels of the compacting dumpster and I'd be in prison on death row. Oh well, I could hook up with my little buddy Andrew. Yeah, I'd finally "get some" for a while, anyway, 'till the night I had to walk the "green mile."
On nights like tonight, sometime around now (probably while I write this) I'll undoubtedly hear the unmistakable "squeak, squeak" sound of the bathtub faucet turning. And I know, it's "gina washin' time!" ("gina" pronounced with a long "i")Time to get them lil' girls, probably together, in the hot bubble bath and sponge them up. 'Cludin' their little vaginas. Gots to get 'em squeaky clean, 'cause it's GINA WASHIN' TIME!! (Sung to a beat like this in the video below.)
OMG! I swear, right on cue! I just now heard the squeak! It's 7:52 pm. Do I know my neighbors or what?!
I'm such a freak.
My upstairs neighbor, the one right above me who has been the bane of my existence here for the past year now, occasionally* has these little kids over, one of whom, at least, is likely hers. Anyway, the second they arrive in the parking lot I can tell 'cause these kids literally never shut up. I have no fucking idea how the adult or adults around them can hold back from just bitch slappin' these little terrors.
(*I say occasionally like it's totally happenstance but I'm sure there's some "arrangement" of when they come over. I don't know her situation. Although I did a bit of sleuthing a while back and I think I may know her name and background to some extent (including the eerie coincidence that she may have lived for a while in Woonsocket, RI! I think I posted about this before.)
Thankfully I'm not friendly with them upstairs 'cause if I was and she ever dared ask if I could "watch" them I'd have to clamp my mouth shut to prevent me telling her that I'd likely kill the fuckin' brats, chop them up, bag 'em and toss them in the dumpster. When they would ask where the kids are I'd play dumb and say "What kids?"
Anyway, again, I can hear them almost non-stop whenever they are here. Thankfully, their squacky, squeaking fingernails-on-blackboard voices are stifled from my ears once they are inside up there (yeah, the floors are thin but not THAT thin where I could hear them talking) but their pitter-patter ever-present footsteps are incessant. So they're not only noisy, they're hyper too.
Oh they'd definitely be roach food buried in the bowels of the compacting dumpster and I'd be in prison on death row. Oh well, I could hook up with my little buddy Andrew. Yeah, I'd finally "get some" for a while, anyway, 'till the night I had to walk the "green mile."
On nights like tonight, sometime around now (probably while I write this) I'll undoubtedly hear the unmistakable "squeak, squeak" sound of the bathtub faucet turning. And I know, it's "gina washin' time!" ("gina" pronounced with a long "i")Time to get them lil' girls, probably together, in the hot bubble bath and sponge them up. 'Cludin' their little vaginas. Gots to get 'em squeaky clean, 'cause it's GINA WASHIN' TIME!! (Sung to a beat like this in the video below.)
OMG! I swear, right on cue! I just now heard the squeak! It's 7:52 pm. Do I know my neighbors or what?!
I'm such a freak.