The Music Man

Suspense Stories | Dec 15, 2012 | 12 min read
20 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
I wrote this story from a man's point of view - since I am not a guy I went on feelings, what I experienced from men in my life. This story is about an angry man who lives above a careless half wit... we've all been there. I call the story, The Music Man.

'Trying to get a much needed night's rest I woke stumbling half way out of bed at the sound of a heavy rain, that instant 'head for the windows before a flood soaks the floors by dawn. The neighbor downstairs who was usually raising hell by blasting his stereo was amazingly silent. A gift from the gods? The son of Hades usually keeps us - me and the other three neighbors in our small walk up tossing until 2:00 in the Am. Mostly heavy metal crap. Quiet Riot, Metallica. But tonight pure and uninterrupted silence. I haven't experience peace of mind ever while living in the big apple, New York City for what comes close to ten years now. Shit, I missed having enough space around me to think straight the apartments are so cramped… the sidewalks so littered with people shoulder to shoulder - I often wonder if someone sneezes if we'd all go down like Dominos.

So what's with this son of bitch? No music. No noise? Maybe he got lucky? If he did he was the most quietest sexual partner I'd ever not heard. Shit, I could never get that lucky that would be like hitting the lottery twice in one year. A silent night, and sex on the same day. I'd have to look out my window to see if Jesus had chosen that day to actually make his appearance. That god damned rain is pelting the windows with enough force to shatter them. I stumbled around in the dark clouds so thick this grey Am you could reach out a twenty story window and squeeze them like a big pair of balls on some young studs body.
So, this is how Monday's are in New York during Fall. Dark, gloomy - werewolf type of weather. Fog covering central park, the moon hidden behind clouds. "So shit for brains!" I called out banging on the radiator with a empty pan. See how he likes being awakened from a deep sleep.
"Why you so quiet down there? Come on asshole for once I got the jump on you?" I rattled that pan against those iron grills good and plenty. That had to wake him up. Probably laying down there dick in his hand and a puddle of vomit beneath his chin. Drunk, a bum. Dope head. You know the type. People like him were all the same waste of fucking life. Not worth the piss you squeeze out of your limp lizard every morning. I grabbed a quick shower than rammed a slice of bagel down my throat so my gut wouldn't start to grumble every time I sat on the bus and spoke to a pretty little hot number I wanted to take home and bang. But this was my life. Single, living in a large efficiency above a pothead drunk blasting music form the 90's. Anyone worth spit knows the 90's blow when it comes to memorable music.

I took the train to work couldn't help noticing a couple of pretty Latino women who sent my dick right into a hard hot erection. I could barely contain it. My last sexual experience had my cock in traction for a month. The bitch was dryer than the Sahara. I sat on the train for 25 minutes rocking back and forth like one of those fucking nut jobs inside an institution on too much thorozine. Finally, my stop. 46th and Broadway. To the salt mines - one more day till the weekend, freedom! Work was its usually pile of horseshit, but it paid the bills and beat flipping burgers or managing a Walmart for twelve dollars an hour. I sat at my desk leaving it twice only twice this day - once for lunch and once to whack off in the men's room fucking dick was hotter than my grandmother's heating pad. I had to shake it off.

I felt like a lion in heat wanting to jump any female ass that passed. That included transgender ass… didn't matter me if their cunt was man made or god sent… I was willing to fuck it. It's all the same babe, it's all the same. The bus ride home was even more less memorable. Old ladies holding up rush hour getting on with those pully carts - running them over people's feet. Don't now why the city puts up with them. I got home just past 6:30PM made better time than usual. The building was quiet. Grabbed my mail from the box than tiptoed past my neighbors door - listening for a moment for any signs of life.
That's when old lady Vandyke came rushing at me from the basement door - that's where the laundry room was and every knows old women spend more time cleaning than living. "Johnny! Oh Johnny!" She said pawing at my arm like a frigging cougar. "Jesus Christ! Holy shit!" I barked falling back against the stair rail. "Mrs. Vandyke you're gonna get your head knocked off if you jump out at someone like that… Christ!" I yelled, the shock of her leaping out of the dark corner at me played heavy on my nerves. "I'm sorry so sorry…" She cried her eyes moist, emotional I thought maybe her feral cat died. The one always walking the halls whining in heat. I'd been tempted to ram a Q=Tip up her ass just to settle her down. She pointed with her crooked finger down the hall to Mr. Richards door - my asshole neighbor who always blasting his music. I referred to him as The Music Man, or the asshole in 1-A.

"What is it? Calm down." I said feeling my heart racing I felt like slapping her around a bit, if only she hadn't seen my face. Cops like that sort of thing makes their job more easier. "Mr. Richards… Poor Mr. Richards." She sighed. "What? What about that bozo?" I inquired sparing no feelings for that bum. She stood there pointing down the hall. "He… He's… dead! Someone crept through his bedroom window last night and cut his throat. All they took was an old alarm clock and the twenty dollars I lent him yesterday that he placed on his dresser before I left his apartment. It wasn't there when I went in with the detectives. He had a job interview today and needed lunch and bus fair poor bugger. Poor, poor man." She let loose a rather fake cry eyeing the dim hall in the direction of Richard's apartment.
Her fake compassion would have been better spent on the trail of the pit-bull who ate the mailman's right leg before his owner showed up and pulled him off. It was in all the papers the trail was going on for the last few weeks. Waste of tax payers money if you ask me, they should have shot the dog and jailed the owner. Or shot the owner and jailed the dog. Don't want people to think I'm a animal hater. They're string you up for a thing like that now a days. Sick world, sick bunch of monkey's in this world.
"Ok, ok slow down. You say he's dead?" She looked up tears dry a serious stare on her face. "Deader than a hunk of rat shit laying in the corner of the hall for a week." She crooned. I was shocked by her rapid crude lexis. I walked her up to her apartment fake patted her back and went into mine. I was thrilled. "That bastard had it coming! What an annoying little schmuck he was! Someone finally gave him his just deserts, well good. Serves him right!" I started dancing the Gene Kelly soft shoe across my living room floor. No more noise, no more losing sleep. I felt bad for a moment but than brushed it off - fuck him! I ate a quick dinner. Swanson's TV Dinner - Fried chicken and mashed potatoes, spot of blueberry cobbler. Washed it down a Miller light. Than I watched the highlights of the game and went to bed. Finally a night's sleep without that jerk off down there singing to his Christ coming again music - or Metallica's fucking 'Sandman'. After ten years of his crap sleep, sleep at last.

I laid my head against my pillow. Oh holy Jesus - sleep. I dosed right off. I was so fucking annoyed and sleep deprived I must have passed out. Than, something strange happened. About 2:15AM one of my eyes fluttered opened. "What the fuck?" I asked god aloud. My ears heard a sound… a sound? Oh hell to the no it wasn't happening it was impossible. MUSIC! LOUD MUSIC? "Shit! That bastard's back from the dead!" I jumped out of bed like a child on Christmas morning and grabbed that old tin pan on the side table and started banging on the radiator. "Someone must have revived the cock sucker at the hospital, well I hope the devil reaches up inside that bastard who did - and rips their heart out!" I yelled. "You son-a-bitch! I'm gonna come down there and smash your skull in! Turn that music down you fucking animal!" I banged and cussed him while that music seemed louder than I ever remembered it.
Where was the rest of the people in this place - on the moon? How could they put up with it? I heard knocking on my door. I went to see who it was. I looked out the keyhole I didn't see anyone. What was I - hearing things? A knock and no one there? Was I losing my fucking mind? The knock came again than once more but the music the music was driving me crazy.

I opened the door. Mrs. Vandyke, Carl Donavan, Mr. Quigley were all standing there looking at me as if I were dressed as the 'Cat in the Hat' or something. "What is it Mr. Jones? We heard you banging calling for help…" Quigley said. "ME? Not likely, Richard's is the one going to be calling out for help when I get my hands around his throat. I was trying to get some sleep when that fuck-tard down there came in and turned up his crappy music! He's back! I thought you said Richard's was dead?" I leered at Mrs. Vandyke who pulled her robe closed tight around her throat. They all looked oddly at one and other. "He… He is dead." Mr. Donavan spoke a nervous little guy. "I saw them take him out on a stretcher covered his head and feet." He remarked trembling. "That's impossible! Listen to that music!" They looked at one and other. But wait the music - the music stopped.
"Well, it was blasting! Sorry if I woke you or alarmed you - but that son-of-a-Hades can't blast that music like that no sir, no Mame no more! He must have added ten speakers! I can't live like this... with a few kind words I went back inside my apartment. "Bastard. No good bum! How dare he make a fool of me. One minute blasting that god forsaken crap - the next…" I set the pan on the radiator and got into bed. I slept for at least another hour. Than… that music. That god forsaken music pounding through the walls.
I was so fucking tired I was seeing double. I was so exhausted I couldn't piss. I climbed out of bed one eye closed like a fucking Cyclops. I began stomping my feet over his head until I felt the pain rack my ankles. "God damn you Richard's! You son of…" I grabbed that tin pan and begun beating the iron radiators again. I banged and banged until the pan dented. "You hear me down there fella? You low life lying piece of dog shit! I'm gonna ram that stereo down your throat than up your ass!" I put on my shoes and left the apartment. I flew down the steps like that pit bull did to get to the mail carrier. I understood animal rage. I started banging on Richard's door both fist mind you, like rotating egg beaters. I rattled the knock. I was beyond enraged.

I wanted to… so help me if I got in the door that night… I'd of killed him. "Open the door you filthy animal! Open it! Come out! I'm gonna kill you!" I hammered my fist into his door until I thought they were going to bleed. "I'm gonna kill you!" When I turned around all the neighbors' were standing on the steps behind me. "You hear that now don't you? That lousy skunk! He's in there. Dead? Dead my ass. He's as much alive as my hemorrhoids and throbbing twice as bad. That music is driving me crazy. I can't sleep. I can't take it anymore!" They stood there in silence like a old timers fucking zombie club meeting. "Well? Don't just stand there! Talk to me! Hear that?" One by one they shook their heads. My eyes were mere slits. "Wha… Whah?" I was out of breathe. "Mr. There isn't no music playing." Donavan spoke up shyly. I thought he was mocking me. "What are you protecting him? You lying for him? What are you talking about listen to that music there!"
But one by one they denied hearing anything. I even went as far as to drag Mr. Quigley to the door by his shirt collar. "Put your ear against that door! Go on! Tell me now there's no music you're all hard of hearing! You can't hear that? You must have forgotten to turn your hearing aids on." But they looked at me as if I was crazy. ME? "Listen… " I began to wonder. "You telling me… you can't hear…" They all stood nodding, no.
I quietly made my way back to my apartment brushing by the zombies. I sat on the end of the bed. It was quiet again. No noise. No sound. Only the rain tapping my sill. "What? Am I imagining it? Have I gone… no, no. Shit don't start thinking that-a-way." I laid back and suddenly just as I was nodding off the music - again.
This time I jumped up onto my mattress than like a child, I leaped off both feet and the weight of my body crashing to the floor… he had to hear that. I flew open my door and ran down the steps banging both fist dead center on Richards door. I called him every name in the book how that door withstood my fury was beyond me. Than I got an idea. A devilish idea. I crept back up the steps to my apartment opened my kitchen window and stepped out onto the wet fire escape. It was pouring as if all the angels in Heaven were taking a piss at once. But I didn't care that didn't stop me boy. I didn't give two shits about the rain.
I made my way down to his apartment and stooped just outside his kitchen window. I knelt there like a peeping tom starring in through the darkness. "Now I got you - you horseshit for brains." But when I looked inside the window the apartment was dark. There was no one - no music. No sign of Richard's… "I see you standing there in the dark you dime store buffoon! Come out of there and face me like a man!" But he wasn't there. I was bluffing but he wouldn't have known it. "Richard's - you cocksucker!" No movement the stillness was unnatural I didn't need to be a fucking psychic to know that much. He was dead.
Vandyke and the others were right. But the music where was… no, no...I couldn't be imaging it. I Couldn't of stepped over the line of sanity. If anyone had the right I did ten years I put up with his bullshit. I stood up feeling ashamed of myself. But I was still plenty pissed. I stepped back on the wet cold steel of the fire escape and as I reached for my rail - the music blasted scaring the bejesus out of me. I looked back at Richards window and saw him, not him - something like him - evil something I'd never seen in a living man before staring out at me. Something out of that Jeepers Creepers Film or the Boogeyman I don't know but there it was staring, smiling.
My foot slipped forward my balance went off my hand slipped from the railing, I fell back and before I knew it - I kept falling down all fifteen cast iron steps to the bottom. Once there I slammed onto the concrete which was a nine foot drop from where the stairwell ended. See, there was a latter than descending from there to the ground. I couldn't move. MY left leg throbbed all the way up to my hipbone. My left shoulder popped out and my head was aching so bad I laid there on the soaked sidewalk. I could see the rain coming straight at me into my eyes, but I couldn't blink. I tried calling for help - but I couldn't move my mouth. I must had sprained my neck, no worse. I knew it had to be much worse. It was still dark no foot traffic no one to offer comfort and help. I laid there listening to that awful music blaring I stared straight which made me even more dizzy.

That thing, that man - DEATH leered over the top railing staring down at me as I laid there trembled from shock the pain was sending me into a deep shock. And the dark was coming over me like a blanket. Death my death? Filling my mind my lungs. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see the rain had filled my sockets I couldn't blink the water away. And that music was still there. Than the world I knew drifted away from me. I was scared for the first time in my life I was scared. I started recalling my mom our life together once dad had abandoned us. Than the life I thought was s unfair to me the life I hated and loved started to slip further from me and all I could do - was lay on that soaked pavement bleeding from my head and broken leg. I was dead. Sleep now my soul my friend, sleep. But even in death that god damned music wouldn't stop.

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