Disrupted Activity

         SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. The sound above me. Above my apartment. Pounding. Constant. Constant pounding. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM! On the floor upstairs. This late at night. Past midnight for God's sake. I sit in my apartment alone, on my hard-wood chair. SLAM! SLAM!!!! Everyone must hear. Like a hammer pounding into the floor above; coming in disconnected intervals. Three here. Six there. Ten second pause. Five second pause. I want to drown it out; to make it go away.

         "Cats foot! Iron claw! Neuro-surgeons...scream for more!" Music suddenly forcing itself on me from my right. The neighbor! Ah, he has the right idea. But at what cost? What fucking cost?! Drowning out the sound for him, I'm sure. Yes, I'm sure! But myself? "...poison door!" The incessant pounding above, the blaring music to the side. SLAM! SLAM!!! SLAM!!!! God, my God!

         The lights flicker. And... and they don't stop. Quick sporadic pulses. Not in tune with the hammering. Out of beat with the music. Just... random. Two seconds of rapid flickering here, and solid for several more! And still the pounding, still it goes on! "...Innocents raped with napalm fire!" More? Can there be more? True as God's hate fills my room, the booming bark of a dog echoes up the alleyway and through my window. A thousand unwelcome sounds burrowing. Burrowing through my ears. In my skull.

         ...silence. All at once. The light stabilizes. No music. No hammer. No dog. Just...silence. Might I continue what I was doing then, might I go on----clop. clop. clop. The invasive squeak of springs and tapping of headboard. To my left. Unwanted sounds of college love. Filthy and disgustin--SLAM! SLAM!! SLAM!!! And the spasm of light; but my focus shifts to the booming bark outside, echoing into my fucking brain "Poets starving. Children bleed!" clop. clop. clop. My senses invaded.

         Taste. A reassuring taste. Yeah. That's the one. SLAM!!! SLAM!!!!!!! Louder now. Much louder. It'll break through the ceiling before long. Clop. CLOP. And now the whorish moaning drifting in. Fucking filthy creatures. "Nothing he's got he really needs!" The light abuzz with activity. Nearly stroboscopic. The pleasant taste. Relaxing. Lowers the heart rate.

         SLAM!!!!!! SLAM!!!!!!!!!! Feeling the subtle vibrations of all the worldly activity. It's 12:31, I see...I notice in the brief instance of light the bulb allows me. The moans becoming screams of ecstasy. The howling pack of dogs. Light and dark and dark and light and dark and light "TWENTY FIRST CENTURY SCHI---"

I pull the trigger.