The mirrored ball stops spinning.

Last night Dick From Next Door (Indian name 'Sneezes Glitter') amped his bass and was dancing to the music of the spheres. I did what I said I would and this morning filed a complaint and sent the text messages with it. I was surprised by the severity of the property manager's response- usually there's a phone call first, then a meeting if the problem continues, followed by something in paper if there's still a problem, but they went straight to hollow point with a letter. I've seen one of those letters, too, they is oogly. Helvetica 12 point, lots of words in bold and underlined. Very shaming. If he does it again he's got 30 days probation or will be evicted. Yikes!

I guess it was the 16 Richard Simmons on acid texts that made them bitch slap him. They were creepy. When I was a little boy and planning my stalking, I always imagined Charlie's Angles would be hiding in the bushes and breaking in to leave love notes about ski weekends around a fire, and not some middle aged married guy. I mean yeah, Charlie was part of it, too, but he was on the phone so it wasn't weird or anything.