Dear Rhonda & Doug. I like country music, I really do. I do NOT like having to listen to it from YOUR stereo system through the walls of my place. All. Day. Long. I tried calling your phone, but according to Verizon Wireless it’s been disconnected. I tried your landlord. I knocked several times on your door, but you wouldn’t answer even with your dog barking between knocks.
Tuesday morning I am going to the District Court and ask for a restraining order for nuisance behaviour. I shouldn’t have to do that. Neighbors should be neighborly. Lord knows I have tried to be a good one, but I freely admit I’m human and have my faults too. I sometimes go out to get the mail wearing shorts, flip flops and a muscle shirt. It’s the residual redneck in me, I suppose. I also like mayo instead of ketchup with my fries. I drink PBR and Bourbon. Call it a weakness.
I’ve also resisted complaining about the drunken screaming matches you two carry on every few days, nor about the dog howling when you leave it locked up when you go out. I haven’t complained when you come home drunk, and the dog gets out and you spend the next two hours (after midnight) hollering up and down the street for it to “get it’s ass back here right now”. I guess I should’ve known what to expect when you moved in and I saw those huge honkin’ speakers and all that Salvation Army furniture. Hell, I could write a country song from just what I’ve learned about you two. Probably a whole album.
But the best part? I probably will write that song, and hopefully it will sell like hotcakes. If I make some money, the first thing I’m going to buy are headphones. For you.