When I moved into my current apartment, one of its most appealing features was the fact that it is located right next door to a church. Right away, I thought, "Great! What a nice, quiet neighborhood! These attractive, young, church folk won't covet my shit, they won't steal from me, they won't cause problems... where do I sign?"
But I was in for a rude awakening. Every Sunday morning (early!) and every Wednesday night (late!), a Christian rock band shreds the electric guitar and goes apeshit on the drums for Jesus. It's deafening. It's distracting. It's annoying. I don't get any writing done. Ever. On weekdays, this church serves as some kind of charter school. The kids are always outside playing basketball, fighting, shrieking, cursing, and ruining my life.
The church administrators also rent a first-floor studio in my building to use as their "office," which means throngs of people come traipsing in and out all day, every day. There must be at least 50 people who know the entry code for the gate of my supposedly "secure" building. Wonderful.
Today the tranquility of my long-awaited Saturday morning was shattered when a football clattered against my window. The window is still intact, but the force of the football caused my jewelry stands to fall over, and all my hand-made treasures are now lying in a tangled heap on the floor. Then, these Christian sadists hauled in enormous speakers and started playing the most godawful music, at what I'm sure must be illegal decibel levels. I was upset when my windows started rattling to the tune of "Everybody Dance Now." My blood started to boil when Justin Bieber's adolescent wailing made my dogs howl. And now that "Who Let the Dogs Out" is blaring, I'm on the verge of a hate crime.
To quell my rage, I've begun fantasizing about Moses making a triumphant return to declare a new commandment:
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