Litter Box Fan

     So there is this neighbor that wasn't so neighborly a few months back. He and I saw each other, I coming out of my apartment with laundry, he going into his apartment with a tub of laundry soap. I think it is pretty obvious where I was going and from where he had came. I lug my laundry down 4 flights to the basement, and you know what? He had just used the last working washing machine. I was irritated at his lack of courtesy. He also does things like turn his TV way up whilst watching testosterone-filled shoot-em-ups and televised sports. Two of my least favorite things in the world.

     Now, Calypso, my cat, is the world's worst maid. Every day she promises that she'll clean the bathroom, dust, do the dishes, clean the litter box, etc, and everyday I come home to a dirtier apartment. Lazy, lying, fuzz spreading ball of empty promises. Well, this evening I had enough. Her litter box needed to be emptied. Badly.

     I plug my nose. I take the top of the litter box off. I pull the drawstring on the liner and pull. I deem the 'contents' to be too heavy for the liner so I take the bottom half of the litter box and head toward the dumpster. I open my door, put the box in the hall, step out and start to lock my door. Then, I hear it. My opportunity to be a tool of Karma! I look to my right (which just happens to be the direction of the stairwell) and my eyes confirm. My sports watching, mums-the-word on laundry neighbor has his door cracked with a fan blowing into his apartment in hopes that some of the 'air-conditioning' in the hallway will cool off his unctuous abode. I pick up the litter box again and go scope the scene. The way his apartment is set up, the couch, where he is sitting, is hidden by the door. So, with a Cheshire grin, I stand, unseen, holding my malodorous box of feline ejectamenta up to the back of his fan. 


Moral? Be neighborly. You never know if Karma will take the form of a spinsterly gay man with extra cat shit!