Peep hole

There is a knock at my door, I standing semi-dressed eyeing a man I have never seen before through my peep hole.

"Yeah," I say, running my toes along the grit of my cheap parquet floor, when was the last time I swept I wonder.

"Ma'am, I want to thank you for leaving your television on," he says, what the hell is this guy talking about? Through the peep hole I see he holds his hat in his hand, rain is dripping from the upper floor eves, my view of the world through the peep hole has a distorted quality, like the fish lens effect in Heath ledger's last movie, I like it.

"My T.V's not on sir," I explain, more interested in the nifty distortion of the peep hole, " I heard voices, he states flatly:

"I do not understand why you are thanking me for having my television on," this conversation is decidedly strange;

"I just moved in" he tells me, "Oh," I say to him, "the walls are very thin, you will get use to it in time, we all do," "but I heard voices" he tells me- AGAIN: he has officially annoyed me.

"Maybe your a schizophrenic," I suggest, through the peep hole I can see this upsets him, I don't care. I go into the bedroom and turn my television to telemundo cranking the volume full blast, than I sit at my desk and listen to my tomahawk play list loudly, while I write- I wish I was drunk.