Upstairs, he removed a yellow note, folded and stuffed between the apartment door and the molding.

To Sam Garrety.
I don’t appreciate your cat having fits every time you leave that apartment. Either you shut him up, or I will be forced to notify the landlord.

Sam wrote her back and taped the note to her door.

Dear Bertha,
Sorry about the meowing from my cat, Dupree, I’m both amazed and impressed by your superior hearing ability, especially in lieu of all of the construction that has been going on out on the street lately. That you could actually hear him above the jackhammers and honking traffic is truly wondrous. You can be assured that I will do my absolute very best to keep him away from the door. Sincerely, Sam.

Sam left for work. When he arrived home late that evening, he found another note from Bertha stuffed inside the same place.

Look idiot, I have lived here in peace and quiet my whole life. I don’t appreciate your wise cracking attitude and I don’t like smelling your cat every time I pass your door. Do something about that noise or else.
Me__

To Me.
Thank you so much for expressing your concerns so eloquently.
In compliance with your request this morning, I taped Dupree’s mouth shut with duct tape and hung him up by all four limbs over my bed. Surprisingly, when I got home just now, I discovered that he had somehow worked his way out of the bindings in my absence. Therefore, I decided more drastic measures will need to take place. I am looking into horse tranquilizers to subdue him at least until I get back home after work from now on.

The following Morning
Sam put off checking the door until after he had coffee. Curiosity finally got the best of him. He retrieved the latest note and sat at the table to read it.

To the idiot next door. Look, I don’t believe any of your bullshit. If this rhetoric of yours was meant to appease me, you have a thing or two coming. I just about had it with you. I have nothing else to say.

To Bertha,
Hey, that’s great. I’m glad you finally came to your senses. By the way, while I was out front this morning, I noticed a few stray cats in need of a home. Me being the soft touch I am, I couldn’t help but bring them upstairs, ha ha. Let me know if I can be of any additional help. Yours, Sam Garrety.

After leaving the note on Bertha’s door, he returned to his room. Shortly after that, he opened the door to a loud knocking and to no one on the other side. On the floor lay the same, familiar yellow paper ripped from a writing pad.

To the idiot next door. Fuck off!

———-

Tossing and turning, Malitsoh couldn’t get comfortable. Intermixed with the fine sand in the road were bean sized pebbles and they were digging into his back. His mouth felt parched and dry. He desperately craved a tall glass of water and would have done anything for it. Had he gotten money from the New Yorker, he would have gladly paid for it if given the opportunity—a thousand dollars for one glass if he had to. And he would be more than happy to do that. Whatever he had left in his pocket, that’s what he was willing to pay, even if it was ten times that much. And he wouldn’t care if that water was violated by spiders, floating mouse droppings or covered with green slime.
He sat up to look skyward into the night where the air lay windless and devoid of sound. A forgotten moon, drifting behind a dark cloud, left the sky a deep black, leaving an abundance of stars thrown about like crystal dust.
“Dude, can you hear me?”
From two hundred feet up the road, Loco, annoyingly answered in a faraway voice. “What, bitch?”
“I only wanted to know if you was still up.”
“If you weren’t talking and moving around, I could have been asleep by now. Does that answer your question?”
“I guess so.” Malitsoh rolled onto his side, propped up his head and hoarsely called

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