The saga begins a mere two weeks ago. Phonebooks were delivered door to door to everyone in the complex. Like a good little citizen, I opened the door, brought the book in, and threw it straight in the trash. So did five other tenants in my building. But one decided to go against the grain. They decided to be a rebel. They were going to stand out against the rest. They were going to leave theirs in the hallway for two god-forsaken weeks.




















































Day after day, they climbed their way over the phonebook that sat directly in front of their door, and day after day I wondered if they would ever pick it up and get rid of it. Each morning as I left for work at 5am, I nudged it just an inch or two closer to their door, hoping they would get rid of the damn thing. It wasn't a huge deal, until that fateful winter afternoon when I came home from work and I saw it. The phonebook. In front of MY fucking door. Not theirs. Mine. As if they just said "hey, this guy will throw our shit away". No no no, not on my watch. The following is a note attached to the phonebook when it was put back in front of the rightful owner's door:

Details on what happens next are soon to come. I have to pee.