Shut up!
I hear you bellowing every night, sometimes during the opera lessons that also come from your building. I previously enjoyed those, but I hate the dissonant hybrid that is, “O Mio Babbino fuck da po-lice.” Your attempts to rap make me proud to be a police-abiding, juice sans gin drinking honky.
Tonight you sing Boyz II Men. Do you sense I’ve come to “The End of the Road?” You never sounded more constipated in your life. Do not ad lib “la, la, la, yeah, yeah, yeah’s,” please. It’s like the most painful, unqualifying “Star Search” audition ever.
I hope you lose whatever community talent show you’re entering, and the bitches be runnin’ from you like the po-po after dem, and tomorrow your vocal cords will spontaneously shrivel up into useless, gummy nodes. That will be “One Sweet Day.”
*As I click the “Publish Post” button, he returns to rapping. Ay de mi…
