Monday, October 31, 2005

A Tell-Tale Three-Disc Changer!

I'm going to kill myself. Since the music from some party stopped last night, there has been a constant thumping going at about 180 beats per minute. I went outside and you can't hear it there. I can only hear it in my bedroom in my apartment. But it seems like it's coming from the apartment below me.

It's like goddamn Chinese water torture, but without all the fucking fun that that brings along with it. I had an awful night of sleep and now, as I sit here trying to write and think of anything but that goddamn thumping, I can't. I feel like it's still too early (at 10 a.m. I'll go) to go and try to say anything.

Do they not hear it? Am I going fucking insane? But if I was going insane, I'd be able to hear it everywhere I went and not just in my room. Specifically, when I put my ear to the floor (yes, I did this) is when it's at its loudest. It sounds like maybe a CD player is skipping on the same one beat over and over and over and over again.

Maybe it's how Jesus has decided to reprimand me for Halloween. I think I'm just going to go and knock on the door right now and see if anybody is there. Yeah. That's what I'll do.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump...

Edit 1 (9:45): Well, I went down there, knocked on the door and rang the doorbell. Nobody's home. I flagged down one of the guys who drives around the complex on a golf cart and asked him if there was anything he could do about it. He just said to call the office. So, I did. The girl on the line said she'd send somebody in maintenance over to check it out.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump...

Edit 2(10:40): It's still there. The maintenance people probably came to check it out, but when they couldn't hear anything from outside, they just left. I'm telling you. I hear it. It's constant. Thump. Thump. Thump. It's like I'm living inside the chest of a hummingbird with high blood pressure. I'm going to pull up the floorboards of this motherfucker and find out what the hell is going on down there.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump...

Edit 3 (11:20): I just talked to one of my neighbors and she says that the people who live below me moved out last night. Fucking wonderful! But she snooped around and looked through their windows and says that's it's probably their CD player skipping.

Oh my god!

It stopped. Just now. As I was typing this. It stopped. Oh sweet release. The world--it sounds so...alive! I can hear my own thoughts again. Am I dead? I'm dead, aren't I? I have to be. Everything is so glorious. My body is so warm. Never mind. I wet myself. Apparently that thumping was playing the brown note over and over again. I'm up to my calves in a sea of feces and urine--kind of like playing in the ball room at Chuck E. Cheese. I was unable to notice it all before because the brown note only lets you see what it wants you to. It's the sonic equivalent to when a cartoon character is really hungry and sees another character as a giant, steaming chicken leg.

I honestly was worried that it would never stop. It would turn out to be something within the walls of the fucking apartment that they would have had to bust open to find. Then, when they finally found what was making the noise, it was actually an alien baby carrying a virus that would wipe out all of human existence. Everybody but me because I'm immune to it.

Fucking Halloween.

Math problem of the day:
If that thump was going on since about 11 o'clock last night and it stopped at roughly 11 o'clock this morning, if it was going at 180 beats per minute, assuming I heard every single thump, how many times did I hear it?

No looking in the back of the book for the answer. This is an even-numbered question anyway.

Highlight below area for answer.
You're a huge nerd.

4 comments:

E-Phunk said...

Another brilliant post! At least with a constant, steady thumping eventually you'll either get used to it or lose your mind and go on a three-state murder rampage before scrawling your final farewell on a cheap motel room wall using your own urine and vomit and then turning the gun on yourself. Either way, sweet relief! Try sleeping through an irregular, intermittent BARKING. Then you'll know what pain is all about. Strangely, I still like dogs though. My girlfriend comes over and talks about kicking them and it really upsets me.

eob said...

The obvious solution is buring the building to the ground.

Carl Click said...

129,600!!

Jimbo the Angry Clown said...

I'm a huge nerd!