For about a month, the apartment next door to mine had been empty. Then a couple of weeks ago, I used my genius-type brain and concluded that the apartment must no longer be empty. I was able to tell because empty apartments don't play shitty hip-hop music so loud that the dead rise from their graves and hurl pieces of their carcasses at the radio in an effort to make it stop.

After a week or so, I could no longer take this punishment. I couldn't even watch Judge Judy any more because I could have sworn she kept saying, "My niggas". Timidly, I began to watch for my neighbor, for if his music was any indication of his personality, he was probably a true thug, with bullet scars and a 40 in one hand and a blunt in the other. Hey, I've seen Lil' Homies in the toy machines at the store; I know what to watch for. And that's why I almost missed my neighbor entirely when he came up the stairs.

He looked like Jay-Z's retarded little stepbrother.

Cautiously, I spoke.

"Hi. (Nervous smile) could you (nervous smile) turn down your music (nervous smile) just a hair?"

He looked at me like I was a space alien asking him for a dissertation on the effect of gravity on the second moon of Jupiter. This man had no idea where he was.

"........"

It began to process. I saw it. I had asked him something.

"........"

Still processing. I wanted him to do something.

"........"

Still processing. Something about his music.

"........"

He finally got it. I wanted him to turn down his music.

"........ Cool," he sort of pronounced, after a great deal of effort to find the suitable word.

Cool. Cool? It took him fifteen seconds to respond and he couldn't do any better than a half-retarded grunt that barely fit the question I asked him? Amused by this winner, I wanted to continue the conversation before he got into his apartment and traded in his last three brain cells for a bong hit. Boldly, I walked over to him and shook his hand.

"By the way, hi, I'm BJ, your next-door neighbor. Nice to meet you."

He shook my hand while continuing to stare at me as if I had asked him to explain the theory of relativity in Swahili while reciting the pledge of allegiance in sign language. After a few more seconds of processing, he responded:

"Cool."

Unable to take any more of this intellectually stimulating conversation, I waved a thank you and went back inside.

This guy is gonna be a real hoot.