The asthmatic saw little of his astigmatic neighbour.
It should be the other way round, he thought, fond of observing irony.
Behind closed doors, the asthmatic snores thunderously each night.
His short-sighted neighbour, with unimpaired hearing, dreads this noise; the sound he abhors.
Unable to sleep through the appalling racket at night, he catches up the next day.
He wonders who’ll notice he’s not around in the mornings; people might think he’s away.
Nobody cares, but everyone stares as the astigmatic, carrying a placard, comes downstairs.
The placard reads:
I’M ALL RIGHT. I JUST CAN’T GET ANY SLEEP AT NIGHT!
The asthmatic aggravator passed him on the stairs and read the sign.
‘It’s good to see you,’ he wheezes. ‘I hope you are fine.’
The man with poor vision nodded his thanks.
He hoped his neighbour would take the hint.
Then, they both went back to their rooms.
It was time for their daily wanks.
Free association styled prose from Julian Cloran, visual artist, writer, poet and agent provocateur. Random musings, which are sometimes cynical, but always intended for amusement, stimulation and entertainment. Comments are welcomed so don't be shy. Simply click on 'comments' to post yours.
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