dear random woman:
i’m sorry to hear that you currently do not have possession of your cell phone or your keys. it seems that you believe they are in unit #8. let me introduce myself: i live in unit #7, which is right across the hall. to be more specific, the door to my apartment is about three feet from the door to apartment #8. you know, the apartment where you believe to have left you cell phone and keys.
i’m curious as to why, since you’re standing right at the door to #8 – i know this because i can hear you pounding on it – you feel the need to scream out your desire for your cell phone and keys. perhaps you’re trying to wake up the man who lives in #8. logical, since it is, in fact, one o’clock in the morning. and clearly you can’t call him, because – as everyone in the building is now aware – you don’t have your cell phone.
but i think my favorite part isn’t how you banged on the door – at 1am – and yelled like a heathen before finally, blessedly, leaving the building and driving away. somehow, for not having a cell phone, or indeed, another live person with whom to exchange words, you managed to never shut your mouth, but that’s another topic. no, my favorite part is how you came back. at 2:30, and again at 4:00, and just for good measure, again at 5:15. in the morning. banging on the door and screaming at the top of your lungs.
no, actually, i rescind that. my favorite part was your last trip. because by the time you came back the third time, at 4am, i realized that i had to wake up in 45 minutes for work. some of us, you know, work in the mornings. so we choose to not spend the hours from one to five banging on peoples’ doors and generally acting like jackasses. so you see, i was already awake, drinking my banana and peanut butter smoothie, when you came back for the fourth time. you didn’t say anything new or exciting – you were clearly still looking for your cell phone and keys – but when you left, still yelling and cursing, you were clearly so distracted by your plight that you backed into my car.
let me say that again, because i know you’ve had a bad day, losing your phone and keys and all: you backed into my motherfucking car. and then drove away. at 5:15 in the morning, after having kept me up for half the night with your raucous, profanity-laden tirades.
so, woman who i have never seen or met, let me introduce myself again: i live in unit #7. i’m the neighbor of the guy who you assume is keeping your phone and keys hostage. i’m also the owner of the car you hit while you were too busy cussing and ranting to look in your goddamn mirrors. and i promise you, that if i ever hear your voice in my building again – because, trust me, i will remember it, seeing as it woke me up four times in the span of four hours – i will let you borrow my cell phone. when i throw it at your head. from close range, because, like i said, my door is within spitting distance of #8.
somebody who is contemplating also letting the air out of your tires