9 out of 10
Would highly recommend.
Pairs wells with boxed wine. Because what else says class like this?
About a month ago, I heard some noises from the apartment next door. I was a little confused because there had never been any neighbors in the apartment, and the mail was always labeled as “no occupant.”
I heard something like “mumblemurmur loud sex mumblejumble.”
That gave me some pause. Were they talking about ME? I am the classiest of humans. I am pure 100% royalty in all the ways. Between the sheets, I’m a polite huma-
Oh god, I can’t keep that shit up. Of COURSE they were talking about me! For the first time ever, I acquired a boyfriend who could keep up with my insatiable thirst for having intercourse. I got laid every time I had the chance. I didn’t care if I was loud because you can be as loud as the hell you want when you’re
fucking making love.
I ignored these illegal neighbors for as long as possible.
Until one day.
It all changed when my boyfriend was over. We were waiting for our delicious
heaven BBQ Chicken Pizza. A security guard came tapping, like Tupac Biggie Smalls Kanye (?) gently rapping, a security guard came tapping on my chamber door. (Poe reference, for you know, literature reasons?)
I opened up and he introduced himself as Officer Carlos…something. All I caught was Carlos, honestly. He said that there had been squatters in the apartment next door, and asked if I had heard anything.
“Sure, Officer Carlos. I heard them about a week ago. These walls are thin.”
“Oh? What did you hear?”
“Uhm…’robble robble loud sex murmur annoying.’ I assumed they were talking about us the previous night, but I couldn’t be sure.”
At that moment, my poor boyfriend, and poor Officer Carlos both went a violent shade of red. It may be worth pointing out that I was in a robe at this point and NOTHING ELSE. My boyfriend was aware of this, and Officer Carlos probably inferred that. But it’s worse for Officer Carlos. My boyfriend is used to that shit. Poor Officer Carlos had no idea what he was walking into when he gently tapped on my door. Oh, Officer Carlos, you were blissfully ignorant. What would you give to go back?
At this precise moment, as the blood was slowly leaving my boyfriend’s face, and Officer Carlos was thoroughly making notes on the situation (avoiding ALL eye contact with either of us), the timer for the pizza went off. And like the sitcom I am, I went to retrieve the pizza from the over, being very careful to crouch and NOT show off my bum to the poor Officer Carlos.
He quickly finished his notes and left, and I never saw him again. After he left, my boyfriend just looked at me and said “You’re terrible, you know that?”
Yes, boyfriend. Yes I do.