You make no noise all day long until it's time for my beloved to go to sleep around 10PM or so. I hear you talking loudly, stomping around on the same concrete floor we have and under the 25' ceiling that has awesome acoustics, and now you've started running around at 11:34PM and screaming like fucking banshees - actually scaring me to death in the process. Seriously, I almost just came out of my seat. It is only because I gave D 1/2 a sleeping pill and have the box fan running in our bedroom that he didn't wake up six different kinds of grumpy, which would have made you shit-list candidates for sure.I hope rabid badgers eat your faces off,
So here's the thing. Fucking stop it. Right now. Because if you don't knock this bullshit off of your own accord, I'm going to pay you a visit first as the nice neighbor who informs you of just how loud you are and invites you over to see how much of your ...shenaningans... we can hear on our side of the wall. I'll explain that sleep is very immportant to us and that it's not like we're asking for much beyond common courtesy. Then it's on you.
I don't want us to have to sleep with earplugs in - not to drown you out, but to drown out the all-night polka fest that will assault you for 8 solid hours when my speakers are placed 4" from your bedroom wall and the music set on repeat - because you can't stop being cuntastic, but it CAN happen. If that's not enough, I got more. I'll have you writhing in pain from the sermons preached with fire and brimstone by the Reverend Jim Jones of the People's Temple and hang a wreath of ALL GOD'S KOOL-AID packets on your fucking door.
After that, I start getting mean. Be told, cunts.