The Person Upstairs

So I'd like to murder my fucking upstairs neighbor. Every morning the guy drops a bowling ball on the floor at about 6:30 am. He's a moron. I have names for him. The main name I call him is Rabbit Eyes because, the first week I lived here he was blaring Jerry Lee Lewis for about 3 hours and what I believe to be square dancing with this lame chick that never comes over anymore. I had to go upstairs and politely ask him to turn down the music. Before he even opened to door from my knocking I could hear him replying to said lame chick "Oh no!! I think I'm in trouble!! I'm in trouble." He opened the door and all I could see were the eyes of a rabbit. All blood shot. I have since seen this moron in passing and his eyes are just permanently red. This guy literally weighs about 100 pounds but walks around upstairs like he weighs about 600 pounds and it's like he's always rearranging his furniture. The guy is a fucking imbecile. I have fantasies about him taking a nose dive out his kitchen window into the alley or getting caught in some gang cross fire that you hear about going on. Why can't this fucker just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. My only saving grace is that he's not home very much but when he is home his racket makes up for the peace I experience when he's gone. I have since resorted to yelling at the ceiling. The fucker has got to hear me...If he ends up dead it might be me who killed the skinny fuck..