Dearest Inconsiderate-Fuckers-Who-Live-Upstairs:

Is there a reason for the innumerable and inexplicable loud bumps and thuds to our ceiling (aka your floor)?

Are you hunters? Butchers? Taxidermists? Wrestlers? Axe murderers?

Do you have OCD that compels you to move your furniture around every day?

Would you mind if I snuck up one night and peed all over your front door? Don't worry, I'll also be sure to leave a nice big steaming pile of Number Twos in your mailbox.

You're very much welcome.



Yours faithfully,

Guess-Who-Wishes-For-Much-Stabbitystabstab-Action-On-Your-Hobbit-Feet