A letter from one of my neighbors to another (as far as he knows).

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Sometimes you get the unalloyed joy of fucking with two assholes at once.  Last names have been changed.

Dear Mr. Smith,

And so it has come to this.

Our once untroubled relationship has gone by the wayside as you seem to have descended into a pervasive madness that causes me to question your sanity and shudder in terror at the horrors your diseased mind is set to loose upon your next door neighbor.

You are a sick man, but you continue to carry on as if nothing is the matter.  Strange noises resound through the thin walls of our respective houses.  Horrid animal noises.  Your dubious excuse for this has been to claim that these satanic wails are meant to be some form of music, yet I would contend that they are nothing less than the willful and craven means to intimidate me into rescinding my complaint to the police over the inappropriate noises by you and the succession of whores who traffic their way into your place.

You have become a whoremonger, Mr. Smith.

Hypocrite.

Liar.

Monster.

Adulterer.

I have long tolerated a seemingly endless succession of your crimes.  The noises your bicycle makes early in the morning.  The time your newfangled toaster oven blew out the electrical circuits leaving me in the dark to contemplate the newfound depths of your evil as I was deprived of my daily broadcast from Mr. Rush Limbaugh.  The number of visitors to your house who knocked on my door, claiming to have accidentally mistaken my house for yours, though this is clearly impossible as our two houses are marked by different numbers.

I have seen your soda bottles piled in the bin like a mountain of human skulls.  I have gazed upon the trash you collect in large oversized bags the color of darkness, of your black heart, hoping to conceal their contents from me.  But though the material of which they were made was tough, it was not impenetrable and I know that you have had an ear infection as recently as this November.  Yes I know that and many other things about you and when the time comes I shall reveal them to an eagerly waiting world which has not yet come to know you for monster you are. And still despite all these atrocities I remained silent (except for my anonymous notes signed 'A Vigilant Watcher' and 'The Shadow') hoping the madness of your parties and your endless carousing would come to their close.  Yet matters have only grown worse.

You slaughtered untold amounts of innocent ants and roaches with a bug spray.  A chemical bug spray full of pesticides.  And when your supply ran out, you went and got more. Your conscience was not troubled by the terror that you wrought, nor was your soul stirred by the chemical messages of desperate ants scurrying for shelter as they were poisoned, exterminated from the air.  Adolf Hitler himself could have been no more ruthless, no more callous to their helpless plight.  No monstrous tyrant in all of history had more crimes to his record than yours.  Not the worst butcher felt so little pity for his victims as you.  And in your cynical arrogance you say that they are only ants.  You say that if they stopped coming out of my house and over to yours, there would be no need to kill them.

And yet this entire campaign was a folly.  The ants have returned as have the roaches.  Your chemical perversions of nature could not keep them down.  And yet rather than recognize the folly of your actions, you continue to perpetuate this same hopeless campaign with more powerful and lethal bug sprays.  Blind to your own evil madness, you seek out more powerful chemical substances from the supermarket like a madman never satisfied with the carnage he has wrought against the helpless and the innocent.

How can you look at yourself in the mirror every morning, Mr. Smith?  Does this record of your crimes not trouble you in the least?  You were never concerned about the impact of your disgraceful behavior.  No you were too busy swilling all sorts of alcoholic drinks and listening to vile music that leaks through the walls like toxic waste polluting my mind and my sprit.  No it's simply time for you to party again.

Go back to your ten billionth party, Mr. Smith.  Stuff your rotten decaying corpus with every form of vile snack and beverage.  Let the toxic rhythms of your stereo system destroy your hearing and the last sad remnants of your brain.  You've never used it anyway.  Since you refuse to listen, you might as well be deaf and since you refuse to think, you may as well be brain dead.

When did you stop caring Mr. Smith?  Was it when you first moved into the neighborhood and you dropped a gum wrapper in the street?  Was it when you began radiating secret orders to my cat, Payne, forcing her to do your dirty bidding to spy on me, thus forcing me to poison her kibbles with draino?  Does your conspiring with the Illuminati not cause you the least bit of worry, even though by doing so you have betrayed your own nation?

Forget it, just throw another party.  You excoriate those courageous souls like myself and 89 year old Mr. Shelby from across the street, though we are the only individuals in this neighborhood who have the courage to condemn your amoral lifestyle and NWO conspiracies.  You hound him as you hounded me when you called me a 'loon', a 'crazed kook' and a 'nut-job who needs to be locked up in a loony bin.'  And yes I remember when you sent your hired goons from the telephone company to fix my line, even though there was nothing wrong with it at the time.

Mr. Smith, you are a goddamn shame.

What law matters now in your despicable state?  What justice?  What truth?

When will you wake up?

If there is any spark of human decency left in you, you would dig out that alien transmitter from your frontal lobe with a pair of common household pliers and take out an ad in the next to last page of every paper written in backwards script proclaiming that the international Zionist-Commonwealth conspiracy no longer controls your thoughts.  But you are dead, spiritually, emotionally and intellectually dead.

As I write these words, I can only imagine what horrors you and your puppet masters are plotting together and what you will commit to justify my extermination.  For you must know that I have stumbled onto your plot and that you must terminate my existence or risk me exposing you to the world for the monster that you are?  A massive conspiracy with its roots in every European capitol.  The diversion of my mail for several days?  Perhaps a hypodermic needle used to inject dihydrogen monoxide into my soymilk?

Or perhaps I will stop you first.  The last thought on my mind, is keeping the promise I made to Payne as he lay there, the draino eating out his guts.  My cat shall be avenged!

Yours Truly,
Richard Jones

[LMNO]

So, you're pitting two neighbors against each other?

What's Richard's backstory?

[The Good Reverend Roger]

So, you're pitting two neighbors against each other?

What's Richard's backstory?

Richard is the TUSD chairman, who not too long ago went on the Colbert report to explain why he had unilaterally banned all Hispanic studies courses.  His only next door neighbor (he lives on the corner) is one of the racist assholes that made noise when the family from  East Africa moved in across the street from me (not that he was alone in this, not hardly).

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

  Beautiful!

[LMNO]

Well played.  Please keep us updated if anything comes of this.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Well played.  Please keep us updated if anything comes of this.

Oh, yes.  I have only just begun to stir the shit!

[EK WAFFLR]

Fucking brilliant! I need to take up a holy cause like this. Soon.

[Juana]

I eagerly look forward to updates!

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

 

This should be entertaining as hell.