This is a voyage through the possibilities of who he is and who he can be in various universes. I welcome you to a world of each and every characteristic of DeVanté is existing as a separate entity in its own universe.
created: 23 February, 2018
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"Yo, Mo Bee! Man, drop that shit!"
The rattling of my mirror irks me. It is a direct effect of what happens when Tupac Shakur releases his latest album from jail and your neighbor assures to keep the highest quality sound systems available in his home at all times. It starts as only the mirror, slowly, it becomes the toothbrush holder. Eventually, the toilet bowl's water is seen carrying the vibration waves of a stereo system that may be two rooms away.
Ryker Height's Condominium Complex has a variety of housing layouts. Out of the thirty options featured in my building, somehow, my bathroom ends up being in perfect sync with my neighbors'. The knowledge comes from my past of hearing his shower running when I go to take my own. Our bathroom's being aligned only confirms how loud his music truly is, for, our living-rooms are a significant amount of feet away from our bathrooms. The thought alone frustrates me as I truly intake the behavior that is always to be expected from my neighbor.
He's got no regards for anyone around him, ever! It can be three in the morning and you hear his sexcapades or, it'll be moments such as the current. It's nine o'clock and I have a presentation tomorrow. The last thing I really need is to be interrupted by him and his usual antics. I won't let it ruin my concentration. This is the normal and I should treat it as such.
I bring my face up as I am relieved to see that I've finally scrubbed myself free of a stubborn, dark shade of eyeshadow. "And that's that..." I mumble to myself, out of habit, as I clean up my sink.
Through the wall, an extra voice is heard participating in the antics being promoted in Tupac's backing adlibs. "Aye, yo, yo, yo! Throw y'all finga's up!" Eyes rolling at the sound of his voice, I let a deep sigh out with the intent of eliminating a fair amount of my frustrations.
A deep rooted bass takes over my entire bathroom. The feline I call my own sits beneath my shampoo rack in my shower, purring at every sensation that the vibrations of my neighbor's music brings. "Tell me baby are you lonely? Don't wanna rush ya', I can help ya if ya' only let me touch ya'. If I'm wrong love tell me, 'cause I get caught up and the life I live is hell. See, I never thought I'd see the day when I would calm down, you ain't heard I've been known to clown and Get Around, that's my word..." Sighing as Tupac raps on, I pick my comb up and reach for my curlers. Wait, see! My brain's all over the place. I need to press it first. His music seems to be killing every inch of my concentration. "See you walkin' and you lookin' good, yes indeed. Got a body like a sex fiend, you're killin' me with your attitude to match right, don't be phony 'cause I hate when you act like, you don't know me. I've be stressin' in the spotlight, I want the fame but the industry's a lot like–"
CLINK!
The shock of my toothbrush holder falling into the sink forces my muscles to tense. A breath is let out as I come to realize it is only my toothbrush. Nonetheless, I am officially beyond annoyed.
