Dear upstairs neighbors,

I hate you.

Complimenting my hair yesterday when you asked for our chairs for another one of your stupid parties did not make me like you.

You seem too stupid to realize that the raucous boys you invite over, feed, and entertain every single night are never going to ask you out. Why should they? You have created the perfect situation—you are the mommies, and they never have to grow up.

Didn't your mother ever tell you not to run in the house? Didn't she say that shouting indoors was rude? Doesn't it bother you at all that you're driving me crazy? Do you ever sleep? Don't you have to wake up at 06:30 or 07:00 sometimes?

Well, I do wake up at 06:30 or 07:00 every weekday morning, and when I haven't had enough sleep, I get cranky. I haven't slept eight hours since you moved in above me three months ago, and I am very, very cranky.

I hope you die, and then you go to hell where someone puts a metal bucket on your head and bangs on it. When you scream for them to stop, I hope they ask you to "come play with us then."

Bethylene