The Holocaust of Idiots

Every night the woman upstairs comes home, or maybe she's been home all along, usually at the moment I am about to drift off into sleep, and plays a little game I imagine is called "Drop the Bowling Ball on the Floor". Or it may be "Drop the Bowling Ball on the Floor Repeatedly". Or "What the Fuck Could I Possibly Be Doing Up Here". I have no way of knowing what she calls it, although I would definitely like to ask her.

It may not be a bowling ball, it could be a human skull, it may even be a sack of human skulls from the sound of it. In any case "Drop the Sack of Human Skulls on the Floor" is carried out with great zeal, and is usually played numerous times before she's done with it for the night. The sound of the skulls smashing against the floor directly above my previously sleeping head would be loud enough to drown almost anything else out, including, say, a car on the street blasting music or the sound of a patriot missile hitting me in the dick, but I am fairly certain that in between the skull sounds I have heard some muffled cackling, the kind of laughter one might expect to hear from a witch or some kind of horrible ogre-woman. At some point later the horrible ogre-woman probably then goes to bed, exhausted from the hard work of having lifted such a heavy bag of skulls so many times, or maybe she goes back out into the night on her flying broomstick to join her witch sisters around a bubbling urn to make ominous predictions about the future of princes. Either way the noise stops and after I am done being infuriated I fall back asleep.

Something like a half hour later is when the witch comes back and summons her goblin servants and commands them to frolic through my radiator for the duration of the evening. A loud clanging, a horrible racket is produced from their wrestling one another and kicking some sort of metal ball that clangs around the pipes. Perhaps they are playing with pieces of shattered human skull. That must be it: the witch comes home, breaks up the human skull for them and sends them off to play in the radiator. It's all so clear now.

So for that and various other reasons I tend to get upset about the little things.

That's probably why if I could summon the strength of Grendel, New York would surely be fucked. "Why are 8 of you standing directly in the middle of the sidewalk; there's plenty of room right there in that perfectly acceptable area that's not in the middle of sidewalk?" EAT YOUR FUCKING HEAD!! "Why are you people all waiting to get into this crowded club when there's another one just like it on the next block that it not crowded?" RIP YOUR HEAD OFF AND CRUNCHY CRUNCH YOUR SKULL IN MY MOUTH!! "Hey guy at the library asking completely asinine questions with self-explanatory answers when you are clearly intelligent and holding up a long line?" INTO MY BAG OF HEADLESS CORPSES YOU GO!! MMM YOUR INCONSIDERATE SKULL IS GOING TO TASTE SO GOOD IN MY MOUTH. "Hey woman upstairs making mystifying-ly loud noises when everyone else in the building is trying to sleep!" I WILL MAKE A FEAST OF YOUR INNARDS TONIGHT!!

I wonder how quickly things would snap into shape then. After the holocaust of idiots.