The young couple next door. They kept me up every single night with their loud moaning and yelling. I tried asking nicely, screaming at them, even calling the cops. Nothing worked. So, I started hitting on the wife. On Valentine’s Day, I specifically slipped a note into a bouquet of roses: Your husband hasn’t found out about us yet, has he? And then, her husband absolutely lost it. 0 I’d just moved into my new place. My neighbors were a middle-aged couple. I hadn’t even met them yet, but I knew their relationship had to be rock solid. How did I know? I heard it. Every night, usually around midnight, they’d get up to some activities that perfectly aligned with biological spring mating rituals. My apartment building has paper-thin walls. Afterward, I could hear the man light his cigarette, the click of the lighter as clear as day. I really didn’t want to be in a position years from now, looking at their future second child and saying: “You little brat, I practically heard you grow up.” Even worse was the woman. Her voice was incredibly hoarse, and when she got going, she sounded just like a duck. And her vocal cords? Pure sonic penetration. Every night, I’d be treated to her demonic, 3D surround-sound duck quacks: “QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK HA HA HA HA QUACK QUACK QUACK HA HA HA HA!” It was like being surrounded by a flock of Donald Ducks. One time, I had a nightmare. I was back in my high school final exam, less than a month before the big SATs. I grabbed the test, and holy crap, I couldn’t answer a single question. Cold sweat immediately drenched me. My strictest teacher glared at me, radiating pure menace, and casually grabbed a chalkboard eraser, chucking it right at my head. But as the eraser hit me, it turned into a duck neck. My teacher opened her mouth and went: “QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK.” The whole class turned to stare at me, and they too started “QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK”-ing. The classroom transformed into a giant duck pond, everyone rushing at me with their “QUACK QUACK QUACK.” I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding like a drum. Next door, they were still at it: “QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK HA HA HA HA QUACK QUACK QUACK.” I stared at the ceiling, seriously considering writing a short story titled A Duck Pond Nightmare. The last time I heard such an abstract sound was when my desk mate was watching some fantasy show during study hall. He’d mimic the villain’s laugh, cackling “hee hee hee hee” at me. No, this couldn’t go on. If this duck-quacking didn’t stop, I was gonna croak. So, I knocked on their door. 0
The man opened the door. He was wearing just boxer shorts, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His chest muscles sagged, and his eyes were suspicious. He scanned me up and down, asking what I wanted. I started by expressing my admiration for their marital bliss and my awe at his stamina. Then I delicately suggested that I really didn’t want to hear their second child’s entire developmental journey from conception to birth, and perhaps they could try to keep it down a little. The man’s eyes widened. He barked, “Are you going to control the sky, the earth, and our private life too?!” From then on, we had a lively debate about each other’s family values and mental health. He graciously inquired about the state of my sanity. I, in turn, offered suggestions for improving his moral compass. Subsequently, he started making inappropriate comments about my female relatives. I, on the other hand, questioned his paternity, offering possibilities like the milkman, some random guy, or even the neighborhood stray, urging him to cooperate and verify it as soon as possible. To my surprise, he was completely ungrateful, rolling up his sleeves, ready to fight me. I was overjoyed. Tonight, I had truly met my lucky star! I saw dollar signs; a new luxury car was practically waving at me. I quickly stuck my face out, “Go on, hit me! Hit me! Please, I beg you, knock me out!” Just then, his wife rushed out of the bedroom, shoved him aside, and squawked in her duck-like voice, “Honey, we don’t stoop to the level of a psycho like him, QUACK!” Finally, they slammed the door shut, ending our friendly exchange. 0
A moment later, the “QUACK!”s resumed. This time, they were even more piercing and triumphant than before. If it was Donald Duck earlier, now it was a turbo-charged duck. I knew they were retaliating, so I recorded it and called the police. The officers arrived shortly. After listening to a chorus of duck calls with me, the officer rubbed his nose, suppressing a smile, and said it indeed constituted disturbing the peace. So, I returned with the police for a second visit. The man flung the door open, immediately yelling, “What the hell do you want now?!” I didn’t say anything. The officer showed his badge and stated: “Hello, you’re disturbing the peace. Please keep the noise down. Other people are trying to sleep.” The man finally noticed the police, his eyes wide. “You actually called the cops for this?!” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Can you just shut your damn mouth for once?! Can you please have some freaking manners?!” “Didn’t you hear the officer? You’re disturbing the peace, got it?” He was in the wrong, but his indignation was strong. “I can do whatever I want in my own home! What we do in our marriage is none of your business!” He didn’t say “what we do in our marriage,” of course. Let’s just say he used a much cruder term, but I’m keeping it classy for you. I said, “I’m not against you two being affectionate, but can you keep it down? Stop all that ‘QUACK QUACK QUACK.’ Is your wife a duck or something?” “You got the guts to say that again?!” I mimicked his wife, pinching my throat: “QUACK QUACK QUACK, you’re so good, honey, QUACK QUACK QUACK.” The man’s face turned beet red. He lunged at me, ready to fight. The police officers pulled him back. They took him aside, appealing to his emotions and explaining the law for a long time. But he was stubborn as a mule, insisting it was personal privacy and nobody else’s business. I got it then. The police could only mediate. With someone so unreasonable, I didn’t expect him to have a sudden change of heart or turn over a new leaf. So, I voluntarily signed the police report and sent the officers on their way. Sure enough, they quickly reverted to their old ways. I scoffed. When I try to be reasonable with you, you’d better be reasonable back. Otherwise, I’ll be even nastier than you. 0
I dug out a cardboard box. I put my subwoofer inside it. Then I stuffed three sides with sponges. The side not blocked by sponges, I pressed tightly against their wall. I turned the volume up to maximum. And started playing Buddhist chants. [Namo ratna trayāya. Namo āryāvalokiteśvarāya Bodhisattvāya mahāsattvāya mahākāruṇikāya…] As the solemn Buddhist music slowly flowed out, I felt instantly refreshed. My entire mind and body were cleansed. This was a place of Buddhist serenity. I wanted to see if they’d have the nerve to continue their antics in front of Buddha, Bodhisattvas, and all the divine beings. Sure enough, they too were apparently moved by the compassionate Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara. They stopped immediately. “Honey, it seems the Bodhisattva has manifested, QUACK.” [End of free preview. To continue reading, please subscribe!] “Manifest my ass! It’s that damn neighbor playing tricks!” Dave pounded on the wall, “Turn off that music! What the hell are you playing Buddhist chants for in the middle of the night, are you crazy?!”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “299195”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic
Leave a Reply