A letter from one neighbor to another
ebaum
Published
09/29/2006
Dear Disgusting Neighbor,
I don't mind that you are fat. I don't mind that you are ugly. I don't mind that you have huge, purple patches of scaling psoriasis all over your body. I don't mind that you have fungus underneath your plastic, frosty pink fingernails (sadly, you've shown me more than once). And since I have a very high fence, I don't even mind if you have sex in your hot tub with your excessively hairy, chain-smoking, rotted front tooth, unwashed boyfriend any time of the day or night.
But I DO mind being in the middle of a much-needed gardening project and being bombarded with 'OH GOD, OH GOD, YES, YES, OH GOD...' coming through the fence with such intensity and volume that my dogs stopped dead in their tracks, looked at the fence, looked at each other, looked at me and then fixated on the fence until you presumably 'came' (an hour later) and shut the hell up.
Now Neighbor, you know I work 12 to 16 hours a day for the majority of my waking life- in other words, I AM SELDOM HOME (you've made it abundantly clear that you keep track of my 'comings and goings') giving you unlimited time and space to do your loud rutting where ever and when ever you desire. So why, for the love of everything Holy, have you chosen to share your, 'DEEPER, DEEPER...'grunt, grunt, grunt, slap, qweef, grunt, 'DEEPER...YES, YEEEEEEES...' with me, my poor way-past-the-point-of-needing-to-be-in-dirt tomato seedlings and my worried dogs in the middle of my ONE measly day off? I'm not a prude, I'm not a religious fanatic and nobody likes a good, sweaty boink more than me- but JesusMaryMotherOfGod- as you fake-screamed (I guess you forgot you told me you were non-orgasmic during intercourse) all I could see in my minds eye were the two of you sloshing and f*cking in a luke-warm, bacteria saturated, hair, sloughed skin and old sperm soup and I swear to GOD it was everything I could do not to vomit.
Ugh... In summation, Neighbor; I somehow got my tomatoes in the ground so please feel free to continue your loud, ugly, germy f*cking. The only thing I ask, is just PLEASE do it when I'm not home, which may I remind you, is MOST of the time.
I don't mind that you are fat. I don't mind that you are ugly. I don't mind that you have huge, purple patches of scaling psoriasis all over your body. I don't mind that you have fungus underneath your plastic, frosty pink fingernails (sadly, you've shown me more than once). And since I have a very high fence, I don't even mind if you have sex in your hot tub with your excessively hairy, chain-smoking, rotted front tooth, unwashed boyfriend any time of the day or night.
But I DO mind being in the middle of a much-needed gardening project and being bombarded with 'OH GOD, OH GOD, YES, YES, OH GOD...' coming through the fence with such intensity and volume that my dogs stopped dead in their tracks, looked at the fence, looked at each other, looked at me and then fixated on the fence until you presumably 'came' (an hour later) and shut the hell up.
Now Neighbor, you know I work 12 to 16 hours a day for the majority of my waking life- in other words, I AM SELDOM HOME (you've made it abundantly clear that you keep track of my 'comings and goings') giving you unlimited time and space to do your loud rutting where ever and when ever you desire. So why, for the love of everything Holy, have you chosen to share your, 'DEEPER, DEEPER...'grunt, grunt, grunt, slap, qweef, grunt, 'DEEPER...YES, YEEEEEEES...' with me, my poor way-past-the-point-of-needing-to-be-in-dirt tomato seedlings and my worried dogs in the middle of my ONE measly day off? I'm not a prude, I'm not a religious fanatic and nobody likes a good, sweaty boink more than me- but JesusMaryMotherOfGod- as you fake-screamed (I guess you forgot you told me you were non-orgasmic during intercourse) all I could see in my minds eye were the two of you sloshing and f*cking in a luke-warm, bacteria saturated, hair, sloughed skin and old sperm soup and I swear to GOD it was everything I could do not to vomit.
Ugh... In summation, Neighbor; I somehow got my tomatoes in the ground so please feel free to continue your loud, ugly, germy f*cking. The only thing I ask, is just PLEASE do it when I'm not home, which may I remind you, is MOST of the time.
8 Comments