Peace and Quiet

I took out my nighttime ear-plugs and put my face in my hands. It was Wednesday and my neighbors were throwing a f---ing party. At three in the morning. On a Wednesday. Sleep wouldn't visit me tonight.

They hadn't invited or even alerted me. But then again, with my condition, I wasn't the partying type. They were always far too loud. I was prone to migraines at parties. Loud noises do that to me. It's part of my condition.

I went downstairs and put on my slippers and went next door and knocked. The music cut out and was replaced by hushed voices. I yelled through the door. "I'm not the cops!" That didn't seem to work. I tried again. "It's your neighbor!" The door opened. Inside was a DJ (They hired a f---ing DJ) and plenty of empty beer bottles. Facing me was a man who spoke far too loudly.

"Whatcha want, rabbit?" he said.

"Could you please turn the music down?" I said.

"And if we don't?" he said, grinning.

I wanted to tell him that I'd tie him to a tree and beat him like a piñata until his organs spilt out, but I didn't. Instead I said, "Turn the music down."

He slammed the door in my face and the music started back up, even louder than before. My head screamed. I did what I had to do.

Days later, newspapers attributed the house explosion to a leaky gas pipe. There had been dozens of fatalities. They said it was "accidental" and that they weren't looking for suspects. I took a sip of my coffee and smiled.

Peace and quiet, at last.