So there’s this guy, right? Livin’ in the next room to me. This place in a dump. Roaches, rats. Paper thin walls. And the smell. So this guy, right. He don’t do nothin’. All day he don’t do nothin’. He don’t go out. He don’t watch tv. He don’t listen to the radio. Nothing’. Nothin’ ‘ceptin’ to whistle. But boy does this guy like to whistle. There are no notes. There is no tune. But the volume rises and falls from time to time. Maybe dependin’ on his mood or somethin’. When I wake in the morning and put the kettle on, I can hear him next door. Just whistlin’ away. When I come home back from work he is still at it. And all night too. I have to go out to get away from it. Mainly to walk the streets. I ain’t got no money for the movies or to sit somewhere warm with a coffee. Or a beer. I had to borrow some from my sis to get earplugs so I can sleep at night. ‘Cause Johnny boy next door to me, he don’t ever stop. He don’t stop to sleep. He. Just. Don’t. Stop.
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