Fuck Labels , Mix It Up Fairy Way

PROLOGUE:1/2 BLONDIE

EXACTLY ONE YEAR AGO
So tomorrow it's my birthday and it has been two hours since i finished my shift at the hospital. I am home ,finally enjoying the tranquility of my bathtub with my best friend Jack (he is known worldwide for his ability to make you drunk). It's one a.m. and I am fighting against gravity to keep my eyelids open just so I can finish this miserable bubble bath. As I lay my head on my pillow one of my skull-crushing headaches strikes again. I can't catch a break. After half an hour and a variety of painkillers the headache has finally simmered-down to an I-accidentally-banged my-head-on-a- cupboard level. Not ideal, but manageable pain, I am so tired. I am finally surrendering to the peacefulness of sleep, when music blasts from my beloved neighbor's flat, apartment 107. Okay I would have probably dealt with the music in an a lot less pissed off way if it was not a Justin Bieber remix, that is just unacceptable. His high-pitched voice is drilling into my brain and I can almost feel the blood being redirected to my face as I get more and more angry. Sleep is sacred, almost as much as food. Messing with my sleep or food brings out the bitch, it is not a conscious decision to become a bitch, it operates more like a survival instinct or an automatic reflex. Ladies in 107 you are on, lets see who if you have the mental and physical capabilities of dealing with a severely sleep-deprived bitch.

I get out of my warm and soft covers, only getting more pissed off as I freeze my ass in the effort to put on my jersey, boy shorts, flip-flops and grab my baseball bat. Now dressed and ready, I head for a post-midnight bitch slap for dear blondie also known as my neighbor. I am halfway to 107, when I look at the bat in my left hand, the grim white-tinted lighting in the corridor somehow makes my actions seem more psychotic . I don't have the time or the financial capabilities to be forced into attending anger management courses again, so I go back to my flat and drop off my bat next to my shoe rack. I head back to 107, now a mentally stable, bat-less adult.

Knock-knock-knock ''Pizza deliveryyy'' I yell.

''One minute I am coming'', her screeching voice rises above the music.

The eejit does not even check the peephole, she opens the door while not even looking my way, her sole attention on the idiots lounging around her flat. I take a minute to look at her. I notice everything from her super-mini, sparkly, Barbie-pink  dress, to her country singer volume fluffed up white-blonde bleached hair and white claw-like plastic nails.

She finally looks my way, one look at me is all it takes for her to start screaming at me about crashing her party, constantly annoying her, killing her buzz and a lot of other stupid stuff that just pour out of her face hole without any logical flow or reasonable cause.

The moment she shuts up for a second, I just look at her completely disappointed. It is no ones fault but mine, because I insisted on holding on to the illogical hope that not all people are assholes who will behave without any decency just for the fun of it.

''You know what?'' I say, in my most calm and easy going tone.

''What?" her annoying bimbo act is just poking my piss-me-off button.

''I came here with the intention of kindly asking you to turn down the music because some of us, have normal jobs, for which we need to be able to sleep in order to wake up in time for, but you are a self-centered asshole so fuck you!'' I try to stay calm but my voice increases steadily as I go through the sentence.

She is frozen, staring at me for a few seconds without doing anything other than blinking rapidly. The people in her flat slowly become quieter and quieter, while her stupid ass stereo is finally turned down. Now everyone is staring at me, like the crazy neighbor. Great! Anyways, at least the music is not that loud any more, so I turn and head back to my flat, praying to anything and everything that exists out there that they don't turn up the music again.