Apparently, the latest cool new thing to do at my building is practice your taekwondo on the huge metal doors leading to people's apartments. Last Thursday, at about 4:30 in the morning, a very very angry man started to take out all his pent up aggression on a poor door on the third floor. He was so angry, and kicked the shit out of it while screaming obscenities. His attack lasted about half an hour! Can you imagine? I was so surprised nobody called the cops, it was LA-HOUD! There's no way I was the only one who heard it, though I can tell you I was the only one who snuck outside a couple times to see what was going on!
Finally, whoever was on the other side of that door let him in, (or he finally managed to locate his keys) and I could hear him assaulting the inside of the apartment. (I hope it was just the apartment!)
Tonight, at about quarter after three, I heard the same sound. "Oh no!" I thought, "not again!" The sound seemed closer, though, so I slipped on my sandals and gently opened the door. Nothing down the one side of the hallway, so I peered around my door to the other side and sure enough, there stood a woman with a cellphone pressed to her ear, kicking the crap out of the door to an apartment 2 doors down from me. When she saw me, she turned her back, but continued to vent her anger on the door. Unlike the angry man of last week, though, she wasn't screaming. Her attack only last about 5 minutes, and I was relieved to hear the pounding stop. Then I heard a ruckus outside at the front of the building.
She had switched the target of her violence from the door to a car downstairs. Perhaps she couldn't find anything to throw up at the balcony attached to the apartment attached to the door she hates. So she dismantled a car and whipped it at the side of the building piece by piece. Go Uma! Kill Bill's car!
Bill has a Musso Sports Beast. It's an odd looking pick-up truck of sorts. Odd looking, but also expensive looking.
Bill is not going to be happy in the morning when he discovers his license plates peeled off, his side-view mirrors smashed and bent in the other direction, and his antenna ripped out.
A taxi pulled up and Uma hopped in. I went downstairs to see the extent of the damage, and she heavily keyed both sides of the truck, front to back, just for good measure. Uma should be a pitcher, she's got a good arm, and connected with the balcony more times than she missed. And we're 4 floors up!
Hell hath no fury, eh?
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