I Eat Screaming Little Girls

Last night, my sleep was plagued with a continuous chorus of screaming girls. The perspective of time is next to impossible to gauge while sleeping, but it seemed like every half an hour or so the chorus would shriek, an image of non-descript girls clustered together and holding their faces in the fashion of “Banging in the Nails”, which I have subconsciously attributed to these neighbors, started ringing through my head. After a couple of “I’m bang bang bang bang banging in the nails,” I found myself overtaken with an inexplicable urge to fiddle with their cross and turn it upside down. At about the moment my fingers started to twitch uncontrollably with the desire of such an un-neighborly deed, The Elephant opened the door.

She peered from behind the door, not moving past the threshold of her home to talk with me. I tried as politely as possible to explain that the noise her daughter and her friends made was rather loud last night and this morning.

“Oh, well we had a sleep-over,” she explained.

“Yes, I could tell. I’m just letting you know that we could hear them screaming all night long and I have to work today. I’m really tired and cranky because of it.”

“Girls. Girls, you need to hear this. This lady lives downstairs and could hear the noise you made last night,” she said, turning to her oldest daughter and her friends. All I could see was the back of the oldest daughter who was lounging on the couch. The girl turned slightly to look at me with a dulled look and then turned back to the TV.

“Hmm� Well, I should be going to work now,” I told The Elephant.

Clearly distressed, she repeatedly opened and closed her mouth, stepped onto the porch and then jumped back to the other side of the door. It looked like she wanted to say something, so I stopped and waited. She fumbled with her words for a moment and then muttered something awkward that I couldn’t hear. I started to turn again, but she stepped back onto the porch, jumping immediately back to the other side of the door. I stopped again, waiting for her to say something, at which point she fumbled with her words for a moment and then muttered something I couldn’t make out. I decided that my presence troubled her and that this hopping from the porch back to the protective barrier of her apartments threshold was something that would continue unless I left. So, I said my goodbyes and told her that the noise wasn’t a huge deal but that I wanted them to know we could hear it. I stole one last glance at the oldest daughter who continued to stare ahead at the TV. As my footsteps reverberated off the metal porch steps, I started to sing “I eat scream-ing little gir-ls.” I doubt they heard me, but perhaps I should swing by their apartment to see if there’s another cross hanging on their door to ward against me.


  1. Me, a good neighbor? Mwahahaha! How can I be a good neighbor when I call the cops every time I hear people beating the shit out of each other?
    As for the song, you can thank Tyler. He was obsessed with it years ago and it's been stuck in my head ever since.

  2. Iiiiiiii'm…
    Banging in the nails!

  3. I wouldn't think you were a horrible neighbor if that song weren't so offensive to Christians! Where the hell did you ever come across that one?