01 November 2011

There is a beagle who lives above me. He is the loneliest beagle in the whole world. I have never seen this dog, but I hear him daily, singing for his owners to return to him and end his cruel lonely torment.

I know that the floor above is not carpeted. This is evident when aformentioned beagle scuddles across it in frantic attempts to find some company.

These are not the only things I know about the apartment upstairs. I also know that the people like to tap dance in each room (on the hardwood floors) at all hours of the day and night. Additionally, they seem to be training for a wrestling title by throwing themselves repeatedly at the floor from some great height.

Also, I'm sure I'd find burried treasure just above my coffee table. I heard them them sawing and digging and pounding there recently.

They are whimsical people who enjoy a new veiw every day or so by routinely dragging heavy objects such as sofas and shelves back and forth.

Then there is the rocking chair. The slow, rhythmic creak wakes me up in the wee hours, as it is directly above my bed.

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