AN: Or, the one that I rain down mundane-yet-awful punishment because I can. (Yes, Jackson, it's punishment. You're kind of a dick, this is Karma. Sorry.)
Jackson Rippner isn't sleeping.
Moral sorts would point smugly and announce that it's guilt, that his laundry list of victims is keeping him awake.
To them, he would say, 'fuck off'.
No, it is not guilt that keeps him awake. Nor is it an injury, or an uncomfortable bed, or even simple insomnia. It is his neighbors. Or, more accurately, their toddler.
They have an infant, and that really isn't bad. Oh, it cries sometimes, but by and large the parents are good at shutting it up. Babies are simple. Feed, change. That's literally all it takes to shut them up. Toddlers, on the other hand…
This one hates bedtime. He knows this because every night it spends hours screaming, hitting the walls, and basically making a nuisance of itself. For a while it wasn't a problem, because he had a job out of the country. (When they said 'travel opportunities', they weren't kidding.)
But now…now he's been home for a while, and it has become very apparent that this is a…problem.
Jill isn't home, which makes this worse-when she's not here, he can sprawl into the middle of the bed like a starfish and sleep until eleven. But not with that damn brat next door.
Banging on the wall gets the parents' attention, all right-it gets them to bang back and shout that 'he's just a baby!' Jackson disagrees. If it can walk, it is a toddler, and toddlers can be trained to shut up after midnight. That's his personal opinion, anyway, and he can't really prove it well-kids…don't like him too much. They know. They see him and go quiet and step aside. So, to be fair, maybe they can't be trained.
There's a lull for five minutes and he's just thinking that the kid's shut up when there's the squeak of bedsprings and a shrill screech.
He lifts his head from his cushy pillow and stares at the wall, hoping to silence the noise through sheer willpower. He is not successful.
He drops his head, pulls another pillow over it, and wonders if he'll get kicked out for pulling the fire alarm. Maybe not if he set a fire first…no, he's not good at arson. He's tried and all that seems to happen is a chair burns and the flames go out.
The screaming does not cease and he drags himself out of his nice, warm bed and shuffles to the balcony for a cigarette.
Ahh. That's better. Below, a steady stream of cars form a river of light and 'fucking asshat, watch your fucking driving!'
He smirks and leans on the railing, cigarette held loosely in his hand. He's half-hoping the neighbors will pop their heads out and yell at him to stop smoking, give him a chance to tell them to shut their damn kid up, (Reddit would call that a Justice Boner), but they don't. Humph.
"'Cause the boys in the hood are always hard…"
One day, he will throw her over this balcony and laugh as she lands on a car below.
"What."
"I just wanted to tell you to please not murder the neighbors, that's four bodies you'll have to get rid of."
"Shut up, Jill."
She yawns, an exaggerated one designed to make him jealous. It works.
"I'm going to sleep now…in my nice, quiet, bed-"
He hangs up on her and turns his phone off. Bullshit, is what that is, complete bullshit.
The crying seems to have stopped and he risks going back inside. It's…quiet. It's well and truly quiet! At last!
On his way back to bed, he trips over the ottoman and crashes into the headboard with a horribly loud thunk!
The baby starts crying.
And then the toddler starts up again.
No. No. Why. Why?
He groans and pulls the blankets over his head.
Somebody kill me.
THE END