Musak Mayham

What do you call a creepy polish person who owns a pharmacy? No really, tell me, this isn't a joke. Last night the pharmacy below my apartment forgot to turn their music off. It's weird, because I have never noticed that they played music in the store. Now, it's all I can hear. Even with my own music on. I can hear Cher, Oasis, Avril Lavigne, Cheryl Crow. It's a non-stop hits brigade over here.

I noticed the music right before falling asleep. It wasn't loud per se, just really really obvious. It was like having a clock radio underneath the bed. In fact, I roamed the apartment looking for lost, misplaced clock radios in hopes of finding my culprit. After deciding that yes, I cannot sleep, I moved to the couch. All was fine until 4 am, WHEN I WAS AWOKEN BY OUR LOVELY PHARMACY MUSIC. Yes, it was in fact loud enough to be incorporated into my dream. I dreamt I was buying a condo with Cher. Shakira, in a jealous rage, busted in with some moves and called me a liar with her hips.

When I came home from work, all fresh and well-rested, I noticed the music was still on. It was extremely noticeable now. I decided to do an experiment, in order to prove that the Pharmacy below us was indeed the guilty party. I waited, with my coat and hat on, for a recognizable song to come on. I then ran downstairs and listened. Jackpot. Yes, they were demons and they needed to die. I noticed a giant speaker in the ceiling right below the spot where I estimated my bed to be.

I asked to speak to the manager. I asked her if she was capable of remembering to turn the music off at night. She just stared blankly and said, Vhat?

I tried another approach: the telephone. I spoke to the same women (I could sense the vapidness even over the phone). She told me that they never leave the music on past 9 pm. End of story. No apologies. Nothing. What the fuck? Why was it so fucking unfathomable that a small mistake was made, and that Dagmara the Pharmacist forgot to turn off the music? She couldn't even admit it, nor say sorry, nor assure me it would never happen again.

I have a game plan, and it centers around the advantage of public domain: I can go in hers. She can't come in mine.

How about a fish wrapped in orange peels discretely hidden in the wall of cleaning supplies? How about some cat feces (I have a never-ending supply) stuffed into a box of Raisin Bran, and then put "back" on their shelves? Or better yet, I could pop down now and get me a box of Pot Of Gold....