The guy who used to live downstairs from me last year was a total asshole. Mike was in his mid-20s and looked clean cut other than the flame tattoos on his forearms. I figured that he might be cool. When I first met Mike, I invited him to come upstairs sometime for a beer. He never took me up on it.
The next time I saw him, he knocked on my door at 10 PM one evening. I had friends over, drinking beers and talking shit. Mike asked me politely to keep the noise to a minimum. I apologized profusely and gave Mike my phone number so that if he had a noise complaint, he could call me rather than having to trek upstairs to remedy the situation. Bad idea. Mike started calling me at least once a week. He called while I was watching the Transformers DVD. He called while I was vacuuming. Mike even called to complain about the noise when Lisa and I were in the throws of passion. Granted Lisa can be loud, but there is an unwritten rule among all apartment dwellers worldwide that you cannot complain about the noise of sex. It was time to teach little Mikey a lesson.
Mike worked the graveyard shift. This meant he was getting home from work around the same time I was leaving for my job. One day before leaving for work, I pulled out the DVD “Shafted,” which is a porn loosely based on the plot to “Shaft.” I particularly like this DVD because it has old-school funky porn music. I put the DVD on repeat, cranked up the volume, and moved all of my speakers to face the floor. Then I left for work.
Mike moved away a couple of weeks after that.
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