Sounds of a garbage disposal sink system being pushed to its absolute mechanical limits can be heard from every room in the apartment; the floors above and below it wake up to the grinding metal shards bumper car'ing into one another.

Something about letting them all swarm and fight over the fridges molded leftovers over night,

then getting the privilege of waking up to the garbage disposal being so flooded with those little cockroach mother fuckers that I can't even elbow grease another single solitary wing down into the magic hole until death rattling the load that's in there with the warm water running for a bit loosens things up.

Me and these coacsuckers have been at war ever since they moved in rent free (trying to state squatters rights or some shit like we live in a vacationing state where winter only comes after a nuke fails to kill their shelly asses)

Guess what?

"It ain't gonna take me a nuke to get rid of every last one of yous!"

The slumlord did one good thing when piling up this shit shack, concrete walls. No need for a gym just gonna bob n cleave these micro-bastards til my knuckles swell enough to have a mind of their own and tell me what to do next.

This place has become a super-highway and I don't intend on opening any more rest stops.

I flush em. The long wait afterword angers the survivors and the flying ones bounce around the closed lid

like some coked up genies with a dwindling supply.

I had a tub. I left a rather ripe post workout marinade film on the bottom that I added a full bear of honey to.

Once the white'ish porcelain turned to a blackout layers deep, my imperfectly measured homemade pool cover got placed over the top and I use this flesh n bone concoction God gave me to press the pool cover down and juice these coacs until the crunching stops.

I leave the last shovels worth in there to preserve in the clear dog shit bags to have fresh ready for Slumlord when he decides to show up Monday, or Tuesday. His door knob is shaped like half a heart and is perfect for tying bags of presents to especially if you just use the bottom to stab things through so their just barley not ripping apart while dripping through little by little on these hot humid heat waves.

The son of a bitch has no heart on the other side of that door! A genocide happening on his own species under his very roof & all he does is toss the bags out the window that soon enough will be too full of all us resident's gifts and will obstruct his perfect Emperial view of the Alleys many Bum Fights that we've fixed and pay me and a few neighbor's rent from a very mild Vig.