In the Future Everyone Lives in an Art Museum

Sometimes I get in fights with my neighbour Sam the plumber, who I believe is deranged. On the odd nights I forget to lock the door he comes into my home while I am sleeping and fucks around with my things, most usually my cans, which he throws about, making such a mess and racket that you wouldn’t believe. I tackle him to the floor, usually, and whisper diplomatic-sounding words in his ear, or else I chase him out with a large iron-studded plank that I keep for this purpose.
              On the days I am feeling diplomatic I tell him to ‘Calm down’, ‘Calm down’, ‘Calm down’, and I say ‘What are you doing Sam, this isn’t even your place.’ Sometimes he will go on raging like a maniac and I will scream in his ear and push off and run to grab my plank before he wises up and arms himself with a can or something else. Other times he snaps out of it easily enough and says things like ‘Sorry, Neville,’ or ‘I just don’t know what comes over me.’ Those are the days that I say sorry too, for tackling him, and together we pick up the cans and mop up the ones that have split.
              It is our custom to have tea. We have tea often, for it is a soothing balm that calms our spirits and makes us forget all of the depressing wonders and truths about the world. When I am feeling diplomatic and Sam is diplomatic back we never part without having a cup or two, and discussing all of various things going on. It is important to keep on like this, for it is a sin to hold grudges, and besides, Sam doesn’t mean what he does. You have to make allowances for the few people you got, and to hold onto them as if they were fastened to you with bolts of thick iron, even if you suspect they may be deranged.

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