Schizophrenic neighbor

5:50 AM

#3 prompt from Mama Kat's Losin It: Neighbors

   After living in San Blas, Madrid, Spain for about two years one evening we met a neighbor from upstairs whom we had never seen before. It was a bit late for American standards, about 8pm, but not for Spanish. As the doorbell rang we assumed it was our immediately-to-the-left neighbor who was a nice grandmother type to us who sometimes brought us goodies such as croquetas. It wasn't her.
    Instead it was a rather tall, large man in his skivvies (boxer, thank goodness) who asked us to kindly stop making so much racket. Principe and I looked at each other in disbelief. What racket? Queenie was already in bed and we were watching tv. We apologized but said he must have the wrong house. He raised his voice saying that he knew we were moving furniture around, that he worked the night shift and needed to sleep and couldn't because we were being too loud. We again denied it. He yelled at us and left, stomping up the stairs.
   Hmmmmm. A few weeks later we found out he is clinically schizophrenic. The neighbor who shared a floor with him and happened to also be married to the crazy man's cousin, told us so. He also told us to be prepared for more visits.
    Sure enough.
    We were finishing up dinner with Principe's parents when the doorbell rang multiple times. This time Principe didn't apologize for anything and his father got involved, too. The crazy man yelled he would call the police. Principe said not to worry, that he already was. The police came, spoke to both parties, but said there was nothing they could really do.
     A few weeks later the doorbell rang at 3 am. The man started yelling for us to STOP MOVING FURNITURE AROUND ALL NIGHT LONG! I CAN HEAR YOU! I HAVE BEEN HEARING YOU FOR FOUR HOURS NOW! before we could get to the door. We shouldn't have opened it, but we knew he would keep ringing the bell. Principe was livid. The man was, again, in his skivvies and yelling with crazy eyes. I had to hold Principe back as I was pretty sure he was going to throw the first punch. Thankfully crazy man left. I think Principe actually scared him a bit.
   We moved one month later.
    Thank goodness.
   Our neighbor now is our babysitter. Sweet, sweet change.

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