I don’t know how many of you remember a few months ago when I posted about my g/f’s apartment complex and the horrible “black beast” whose lair is just below my g/f’s apartment.  Well in our last encounter the beast was ostensibly slain by our stomping drunken feet at 2AM.  She ran outside, screaming her pumpkin sized head off, and then retreated in defeat to the sound of our echoing laughter.  Her chanting, singing gospel songs, clapping, and speaking in tongues towards her ceiling had been substantially abated.  I had even bumped into one of the other neighbors at Live Wire one night, surprisingly I did not recognize him w/o his mohawk.  He told tales of banging endlessly against the wall that he shares with the beast.  Apparently I had become somewhat of an underground celebrity in the complex for going toe to toe with a 300lb bible beating black woman. I took some pleasure in hearing this because I knew how unsettling it was to be getting my groove on and being forced to hear her chant and scream at the ceiling in some insane attempt to exorcise the demons from the adulterous apartment above.

Well to make a long story short, the bitch started up again.  Yep, with the gospel music and the singing and chanting and clapping and praying and screaming at god and speaking in tongues.  Yeah, she went total christian crazy in her dirty little prayer cave.  The whore has totally flipped her fucking wig.

Now the only saving grace to the situation before was that the landlord was completely sympathetic.  The landlord was awesome about the whole situation in fact.  He was a former Hells Angels biker dude who settled down to a life of plumbing repairs and negotiating minor disputes.  His name was George.  He was tall, 6′+, gaunt and bony but with a dangerous swagger to him for a skinny old guy.  He had a number of tattoos up and down his long freckled arms that time and the relentless sun had turned into inscrutable blue blobs.  We didn’t speak often, but when we did we talked about things we saw eye to eye on.  Motorcycles,  tattoos, women, alcohol, drugs, and crime. Our interactions were minor but they provided the foundation upon which an alliance against the black beast was formed.  Whenever she would complain about loud music coming from my g/f’s apartment he would pretend that he didn’t hear it.  Whenever she would bitch about us coming in at 2AM and “slamming all the cabinet doors extra loud so as to intentionally disrupt her praying” he would simply ignore her (and believe you me that she was up at 2AM every night praying full power down in her little guilt chamber).  Whenever she argued that my g/f’s apartment was a den of adultery and sin he would chuckle and then tell us about it later over a beer.

I can kind of understand what happened, I mean, she had no other recourse.  When you have a narrow mindset you live a narrow kind of a life.  For her direct confrontation had already failed and she was at the threshold of that greatest Christian ideal imaginable… martyrdom.  So she acted out in the only way she knew how.

She prayed that the landlord would die.

And he did.

That bitch killed the landlord.

He told us that he was diagnosed with colon cancer.  He started walking around with these clear breathing tubes going into his nose.  All his hair fell out.  And he was dead in less than two weeks.  Its a total goddamn tragedy.  I don’t care if he smoked or not, that dude was cool and down to earth and fun to talk to and hang out with, and he was fucking murdered by the black beast.  Now just for the simpletons out there I will clarify – No, I do not actually believe that the black beast prayed to God and he reached his golden hand down through the clouds and gave the landlord colon cancer. But did she clench her angry black fists and point them at him and say “I pray to God that you get colon cancer”?…  Well I can’t prove that either, but I’m pretty sure it happened, how else do you explain it!?

Anyway, since his death she has been back to her old ways and it is driving myself and my g/f up the fucking wall.  I didn’t know exactly the new tactics that I would devise to end her reign of terror, and maybe shoving a carrot in Shirley’s hose (my evil under-neighbor) was the pinnacle of my prank career, but I had to think of something.

Well it was the economy that gave me part of the answer.  My g/f canx’d her cable to save cash and just started pirating it off the neighbors who have unprotected wireless in their apartments.  One day when trying to connect, which is a strange process of moving the laptop to different spots all around the apartment until the little bars go up enough to complete the signal, we noticed that there was a bizarre wireless network in the area.  The network was titled “Creation”.  We both knew whose network it was immediately.  It was the fucking black beast’s internet.  It was a secure network too, the untrusting bitch, but I was bored and started just typing crap into the password field.  Three tries later I hit paydirt.

“Jesus”

I mean are you fucking kidding me!? Of course it was fucking “Jesus”.

So I have started looking up sicko porn and other illegal non-christian stuff on her internet to see if I can get the bitch arrested.  I think this is a fairly foolhardy plan, and I feel all sickly and gross watching what’s left of my soul drain away with every dirty pornographic mouse-click, but its all I’ve got to work with until another stroke of genius has me bombing her apartment with my girlfriend’s kitchen sink (Shirley style).

Anyway, my g/f was going out to her truck the other day and a different neighbor came up to her and wanted her to sign a petition of grievance.  Apparently the black beast has gotten so fucking bad that all the neighbors in the complex are ready to hang her from the nearest tree.  My g/f simply told the neighbor that she was moving into a new apartment exclusively because of the antics of the beast (a near complete fabrication).  The neighbor asked if she was still dating that giant, drunken, confrontational ogre with impulse control problems – and if so could he possibly help out by taking leadership of this fight.  She of course agreed (for me) and now I’m being thrust into the forefront of a battle against an irritating self-righteous christian whore to save the soul of an apartment complex that I don’t even live in.

Fuck my life.

Regardless, this conflict arouses the seductive possibility of laughter and a few good stories… And by good stories I mean bad decisions, because the two go hand in hand.  So I’m dragged back into the fray of another banal brouhaha in the burbs of San Diego, and with god as my witness I’m not going down without a fight.

Note to readers, I’m taking suggestions, anything will help – this bitch must be stopped before she kills again.

Until then…

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