The sound onslaught reprieve was short lived . The whirring returned to full force . I upped the ante . To kill the second air conditioner dead , I sprayed Raid into it .
Just as the shaving cream enhanced the Muldoon-Fats ’ apartment , it did so for the roach spray . I did them a favor . I killed all the roaches who called their air conditioner home . Cold roach corpses could be scattered beneath the very alive and well and still whirring air conditioner . I could not chill out . When I heard contractors working in the Muldoon-Fats ’ apartment , I knocked on their door and told the workers that the air conditioner was disturbing me . In retrospect , I should have just asked the door to let me in . But lost easy opportunity aside , wonder of wonder miracle of miracles , the workers allowed me to enter and turn off the air conditioners . Clarence ’ s Thomas ’ s “ high tech lynching ” manifested itself as my mechanistic acoustical rape . I was obsessed with the fact that a mere flick of a switch could end all of my suffering . Again turning to a page from my obnoxious summer camp behavior play book , I short sheeted their bed . As I exited their apartment , I basked in the glory of winning one battle in the air conditioner wars . Consummate snoop that I am , I could not help noticing that , with the exception of the single bed used by a family of five , the Muldoon-Fats ’ apartment was devoid of furniture .
I could not believe that I was not making any progress . I am a middle-aged Jewish feminist ballabusta par excellence . Bella Abzug is my hero . How could goyim withstand my full warp factor ten Jewish Feminist Ballabusta Power ? The Power had never failed me before . Twenty years ago , I drove Black Hole State University nuts when I fought and won a feminist tenure battle . How could a mere two people prevail under this onslaught ? In the face of failure , there was nothing to do but to do even more . Since shaving cream and the entire Subway sandwich menu ’ s condiments failed to be effective , I turned to
McDonald ’ s . I entered the elevator armed with two all-beef patties , special sauce , lettuce , pickles and onions on a sesame seed bun . The door salivated . What could raise triglycerides and cause death could not fail to raise the Muldoon-Fats ’ hackles and convince them to eliminate their air conditioner noise . With wrapper off and hand drawn back ready to smash the Whopper against the hungry door lock , I abruptly stopped when I heard the fire staircase door opening . I was about to be caught red handed with the ketchup sodden burger . Thankfully my friend nineteenth floor resident Gaston Parapluieberg appeared . “ Would you like a hamburger ?” I asked . “ No . You are obviously trying to turn the Muldoon-Fats ’ door into a fast food restaurant lunch . These people are obnoxious . I sympathize with you . But whatever your reasons are , you must stop . I heard them say that they installed computer driven motion detectors behind their door . They also put surveillance cameras in the windows above your terrace and in their hallway . Android is monitoring the surveillance equipment . Do not come up to this floor again or they will get you .”
“ Does that mean I can ’ t try pizza smashing ?” “ Don ’ t even think about it .” The door was disappointed to hear this . She liked pizza .
“ All I want is peace and quiet and I have to live in Stalag 17 . I don ’ t know how I can ever thank you .” Overcome with emotion , I looked as Gaston ’ s cute body to find a place to decorously kiss . I opted for his hand . “ Thank you , thank you ,” I said as I covered his hand with lip smacking kisses . The door felt like a voyeur .
I knew that it was enough already with the hand kissing . I could not be accused of attractive French shareholder vestibule rape . Oy , as if I didn ’ t have enough trouble living under terrace surveillance cameras . What if I was out there kissing my husband and one of the young