14
Aug
19

Itchy. Tasty.

Having been up most of the night trying to combat an infestation that has resulted in near-constant assault by insects for the greater park of a week, I have come to a conclusion.

My neighbor must work for Umbrella Corporation. Not Blue Umbrella, not Neo Umbrella. The OGs of the “hey, let’s see what happens when we do this!” camp.

Since he has moved in, we’ve had explosions, one after another, of silverfish, roaches, mice, fleas and bedbugs. All of them almost ridiculously resistant to all normal methods of destruction. The bedbugs are now eating their third Raid fog bomb (having already survived multiple flea treatments, 110+ degree temperatures, a visit from the Orkin man and a bleach soaking of the mattress, bedding and boxspring.)

I firmly believe these pests are T or G virus mutations. It’s the only explanation. The fact that he stands by his window in the buff, grunting and moaning, while a spectacularly fetid smell leaks from his apartment only reinforces this notion.

It’s only reminding me why I loathe other people; between having to be paranoid about measles thanks to a compromised immune system, having a neighbor who has more green clouds (that I’m allergic to) leaking out from under his door and then under mine than you see in a Cheech and Chong movie, and now the new neighbor bringing with him genetic experiments that infest the whole building.

Can I just live in a cabin in the woods, way the hell away from others? I wish.


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