What’s Going On Upstairs?

A game for all ages.

It’s always fun when a new neighbor moves in. The possibilities are endless. Will they turn out to be your new BFF? A potential organ match? Your fifth husband?


The most fascinating thing is how much noise they will make.

You watched them move in. There was some furniture. Nothing out of the ordinary. You didn’t see, say, a bowling ball collection. Or perhaps an adorable, yet desperately clumsy baby elephant.

And is there a reason why they can’t go outside to jog? Because it sounds like they’re jogging. Right above your head. In those shoes that old-timey deep-sea divers used to wear, the ones that are made out of lead.

It’s nice that they like music. Who doesn’t like music? Especially Swedish death metal. I’m particularly fond of Autopsy Torment at 6:00 a.m. on a Sunday.

The biggest mystery is the dragging noises. Because there’s only one thing that you drag.

A body.

Oooh, maybe the new neighbor will end up on Dateline. Stone Phillips has a restraining order against me. DON’T DENY OUR LOVE, STONE!

I’ll be the first one outside when the camera crews show up.

“Did you know your neighbor well?” they’ll ask me.

“Sure,” I’ll say, looking at my hand, “Taylor — I mean, Tyler — Karl seemed like a great guy. He really enjoyed music and exercise. One time I asked him if he could help me move my TV, but he said his puppet wouldn’t like it.”

One last thing:

Neighbors only eat bacon.

They know it’s done when the smoke alarm goes off.

Legal secretary by day, insomniac by night. BA, MA. If life is a journey, I’m lost. Slackjaw, Points In Case, The Funny Times, The Haven. Twitter: @blade_funner

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