In Regards to This Weekend,

For the better part of a year I’ve been forced to suffer the existence of one of two upstairs neighbors.  For the sake of the story, they’re a gay couple, though quite possibly the worst gay couple and, at least one, individuals I’ve ever met.  However, their sexual preferences are their own and revealing them to you here is solely for the clarification that there will be two “he’s” and “hims” involved in this post.

On to the story…We knew something was wrong when the first thing we heard come from their apartment was a loud crash and what sounded like crying and whimpering.  The story was that they were hanging a new ceiling fan, because the ones the apartment came furnished with weren’t pretty enough or something…anyway, someone fell  off the step ladder and landed on their teeny tiny dachshund, breaking her front leg.  They rushed downstairs and took her to get emergency care at a nearby vet.  Later, we’d learn that, and I’ll change names here to protect the…something, since he’s definitely not innocent, Don (for all intents and purposes) had thrown the dog across the house and every instance of a dog being beaten or abused was his own doing and not his partner’s as he’d claimed.

What would follow is countless fights between the two of them upstairs and Don running to Caitlin for support and a place to hide, not to mention a buffet of free cigarettes.  Which he would then help himself to while walking their dogs early in the morning.  I know, I’ve caught him.  More than once.  So, for months, they’d fight, Caitlin would open our door to Don and he’d come in and tell a fantastic story making himself out to be the victim so that someone else’s story would align with his own.

Some time later, we’d meet two new neighbors and become friendly enough to have them drop by nightly so our dogs could play and we would all chat.  And all of a sudden we were the bad guys.  So, I begin Operation: Bad Neighbor.  The night it began, we came home from an afternoon at my parents house using the pool.  Don exited his apartment onto his porch and tossed a bag of piss pads into our space below. I stood and watched as it looked like he’d be exiting to come pick it up and dispose of it.  He didn’t.  So the next morning, since it was there still I brought it up to their front door.  Thus began “Fallout”.

Caitlin and I opened our door to Caitlin’s sister and her boyfriend and she let Don and his partner know so that they’d have our backs if it ever came back to bite us in the ass.  He went to the front office and complained, claiming he wanted two more room mates because we had two more.  First and foremost, I’ve got my story covered when it comes to them.  As far as the office is concerned they’re here to help with the wedding planning and execution the day of.   Never mind that our lease is up shortly after that and we’ll be moving out and into a cheaper place.  I did something kind and out of the goodness of my heart because I don’t want to see family on the streets, and Don goes back on his word, despite the fact that we’ve only ever been nice to him and his partner.

On top of that, I take Caitlin, Connor, and Jhon to Disney for a day, my brother and his fiancee drop by to take the dogs out during the day and it’s all settled.  He seems to decide that it’s his business and calls animal control.  Who comes Monday morning with a complaint of loud animals and gives us 10 days to get Zelda licensed or they’ll give us a fine.  Neither of which I or anyone can pay for and will end up having her taken away and likely put down.  So thank you for that, Don.

ON TOP OF THAT, he takes a traumatic experience and tells our friends and neighbors that it’s all a grab for attention.  That there never was a miscarriage.  Caitlin has confided in Don time and time again and gotten HIS back not knowing otherwise time and time again and this is how he repays us.  This is how he repays her.  By telling people we call them criminals and nasty things behind their backs and that we never suffered the loss that we did.

Saint Patrick’s Day 2012.  Amidst a cloud of loud banging and screaming and yelling that lasted several hours I gathered the troops and left the homestead.  Come Sunday morning I found out that Don and his partner had gotten into a very public fight and had been taken to jail for the night.  This is when everything I’ve shared with you came to light.  And even more surfaced last night, that his mother, who Caitlin has spoken to time and time again when they fought.  But it came to light that she’d been planting these ideas in Don’s head and he’d been taking action.  So for the both of them, I have this to say.

 

To “Don” and His Mother,

I hope the two of you are happy together, maintaining a 1500 foot distance from the people of Building 7.   “Don”, you’ve been nothing but a shrill, unlikable, whiny brat since the day I met you.  You constantly make everything about yourself and do it so well that you believe it to be the truth.  I’ll be glad to not be living under your heavy feet any longer as now I can once again sleep soundly.  Your dogs would also like to thank you for maintaining the soon to be court appointed distance as then you can no longer break their legs, lock them in their cages, beat them mercilessly, or treat them like they’re nothing but toys.

To his mother…Madam, I reserve this word for only the most extreme of cases.  And I rarely use it lightly or in jest.  And to feel the need to brush it off and apply it directly to you and only you sets a new standard for this word as someone would have to be far far worse than you for me to ever even consider calling them this word.  You, ma’am are a thunderously obnoxious and offensive cunt and I hope you and your son die horrible agonizing deaths and suffer an eternity of being kept in cages and whipped and beaten like Don did to those animals.

On a furthered note, I’d consider coming after you for the $400+ I had to pay to my vet because my dog suffered a bladder infection because he wasn’t walked a single time when I had to leave for a few days and begged my upstairs neighbor, who I actually trusted with the simple task, to keep after him in our absence.  When we returned home we found him in pain and with no water to be seen, his bowl bone dry.   I’d consider coming after you for the total of vet bills and boarding after the fact, but I’m gonna let the guy who’s shoulder you managed to dislocate get his first, there might not be much left when he’s done.

Finally, if it so happens that restraining orders aren’t taken out.  And your partner foolishly allows you back into the apartment and his life, I’d like to make this final part clear and I’ll tell you this to your face to.  Stay away.  Don’t come to, don’t steal from, don’t speak to,  don’t even look at me and my family.  You’re a disgusting example of a human being, bored with your own life so you complicate others and I don’t want it anywhere near me.

That said.

 

Good Day,
Your downstairs neighbor.