Dear Skank That Lives Downstairs:
Shut the fuck up! We have lived above you for a month and a half now and have been awakened by your drunk ass and whatever nasty fucking guy you bring home at least five times and have had to listen to you ranting and raving on the phone countless more times. I'm sick and tired of all the drama.
3:30 in the morning is not an acceptable time to yell at the top of your lungs at that foul boyfriend of yours. I don't need to hear you yell "fuck" at him one hundred times in two minutes. I don't need to hear you drunkenly accuse him of every crazy fucking thing under the sun. And when you have your angry makeup sex, for god's sake close your window! The neighborhood does not need to hear the spanking, the screeching and most of all, the finishing groan by that douche bag that is laying on top of you. If I find that I am sterile in the future, I will be suing your ass. Millions and millions of my boys may have lost the will to live and you are to blame.
If you start screaming at the top of your lungs that late again I will have to assume that you and that douche bag are fighting and I will be forced to call the cops. Maybe the police stopping by because of a report of suspected domestic violence will get your skank ass to shut the fuck up.
Peace and love, you dirty drunken whore,
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