I figured I had to get Valentine’s Day in here as well somehow…
Gregory woke up to the sounds of raucous sex echoing down the exhaust shaft outside his window. It wasn’t the first time, either. People seemed to forget that when your window was open to the shaft, everybody in the apartments above and below you could hear everything that was said, or moaned. This was the third time he’s heard this particular chorus of voices from above him at 2 in the morning, so this time, he thought he’d do something about it.
Throwing up the screen and sticking his head into the shaft, he hollered up, “Hey, can I join in?”
The voice stopped abruptly and the man shouted down–“Anytime you want, asshole!” And then they picked back right where they had left off, this time with some accompanying thumps on the floor/ceiling above him. It almost wouldn’t be so bad if they at least varied their routine. It seemed to be the same thing every time, and the girl only had the same stock phrases. “Oh, yeah, that’s right, right there, right there!” It was going to drive him mad. While the noises richoceted out into the night, Gregory plotted, trying to figure out the best way to get back at this noisy neighbor of his. He didn’t so much care that the guy felt like bragging that he was getting some, it was just really starting to impact his sleep schedule.
The next night, around 4 am, after his neighbors had stopped their monotonous moaning and thumping, Gregory turned on his cable, navigated his way to the porn channels (which, of course, he’d never been to before), picked one titled “Magnificent Moaners” and turned the volume up as high as it could go. Before long, he could hear down the vent. “Christ man, don’t tear her apart! Save some for me!”
Pausing the video, he hollered back, “As if you’d have the balls!” After restarting the video, he grabbed a broom and proceeded to slam the ceiling. Once the video ended, he finally collapsed into bed, hoping redbulls would get him through work and to a peaceful night tomorrow.
But the next night, his neighbor was at it again, it almost sounded like he was slamming a piece of furniture up and down on the floor, and so Gregory chimed in, competing with the noise from above until the Moaners video ended. And the next night, and the next. He was starting to put cracks in the plaster of his ceiling, but he didn’t really care. He was determined to show this jackass the error of his ways.
The next night was Valentine’s Day, and in honor of this commercial occasion that made single women depressed and single men drunk, the pay-per-view porn had added a new channel titled “Valentine Screamers.” And when his neighbor started up, Gregory turned on the show and started slamming his broom into the ceiling. About ten minutes into the program, dust started to rain down on him and Gregory looked up just in time to watch his ceiling cave in and a small man holding a dining room chair crash through and land on his couch.
A TV teetered on the edge of the hole, finally falling through and landing just in front of his own, a woman’s naked ass showing briefly before it shorted out and started to smoke.
“Valentine Screamers” was still playing loudly as Gregory cleared the dust out of his lungs and made his way over to the gentleman who had just fallen through into his apartment.
“Truce?” Gregory stuck out his hand.
The man rested his forehead on the back of the chair, and started laughing. He stood and grabbed Gregory’s hand, shaking it once, quite briefly. “Truce.”