A comic about life, love, death, and Björk, in about three colors.
ROARRRRR!!!! Here kitty, kitty...Time for a haircut. Oooomm.... Upstairs flat. Uuuuhhhhh... Ooooohhhh... ARGH... EEEEEPPPP... Fwump... Reeeaawww... Mmmmm.... *Buzzzzzz* *Creak* *Creak*

Cry in the Night


I really don’t mind noisy neighbors. I myself am a noisy person, and I hold erratic hours. It’s a checks and balances thing, really.

The cacophony of the last few nights is strange in that I am unable to identify it. At first it sounded like a cat fighting a weasel in the parking lot. But it continued longer than a cat/weasel fight could have. Then it sounded like orgasmic ecstasy, but again, it lasted longer than orgasmic ecstasy could have. Then it sounded like a baby, but it wasn’t so much a WaaWaa as a WaaReeHoo.

Very perplexing.

To further complicate things, I am deaf in my left ear and as such unable to triangulate the source of sound. So while I am fairly confident the noises were not coming from my apartment, they could have come from my next door neighbor, my upstairs neighbor, or the parking lot, perhaps even all of the above.

These are strange days.

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