"SUCK MY COCK!!!" he kicks the head across his livingroom; he's wearing one steel-toed boot, nothing underneath. "MOTHERFUCKER!!! SUCKMYCOCK!!!" grabbing the body sans-head by the shoulders he smashes his face into the bloody stump, swirls his tongue in and around the throat, esophagus, vocal chords and what-have-you. He is gently masturbating as he does this, masturbating a soft dick ok the corpse, and a fully erect one, his own.
Next door, Natalie, 94, hits her bong made out of a "real coconut, honey!" and stirs two hot dogs boiling on the stove. She's way naked, preferring to be so in the comfort of her own house. Zeppelin's "Tangerine" plays loudly. Her late husband hated Led Zeppelin and she never forgave him. She likes eating hot dogs every few days and watching Poker. Her day-friends would never know. What Natalie would never know, is her day-friends are the same as she; "the freaks come out at night," right?
Two floors up, Anna and Todd are fucking. Anna is 17, Todd is too, and they've been dating for 6 months. Their sex life is better than probably 80% of established adult sexually active couples out there, a statistic based on shitty guess-work. Anna is headstrong and days when something needs to be different, and honestly, Todd is just a natural. Good for him. Anna's parents are entering the apartment building on the ground floor; the kids know this and finish accordingly.
A few doors over, the apartment is empty. An ant scrounges for crumbs; it thought it smelt sugar but is quickly realizing in its stupid ant way that there is no food there to be consumed and feels a pang of worry for half a second before its tiny ant brain chemicals keep it on the track of instinct. Eventually, it finds itself at the crack under the door and slips out. Where will it go next?
Edward missed having a good marriage; fuck, an OKAY one. He lives in an apartment below the penthouse and can hear the parties. There is nothing fuckin like coming home to the one thing that makes your heart and dick swell like a beesting. The smell of her was enough to bring him to absolute lucidity. He loved her way her eyes her tits her thighs her face her words her style her hair her freckles her defiance her way of seeing it all her existence her ears her neck her pussy and her hugs more than anything else that was present on the planet at the time. She'd get home from work and he'd have a glass of wine already poured for the both of them and they'd watch gameshows and shoot the shit. About anything. He preferred beers but he preferred her more. He cried to her he joked to her at her about her with her he did and loved every fuckin thing and the way she loved him----he knew there was something different about it; something magic and more and hard to follow. He was obsessed. She died Fall 2002 and Ed hasn't found anyone since. She was too bright and he was too oblivious. She died wanting a divorce because Ed was too swimming-in-his-mind.
The first man, named Rand, is no longer in his apartment, but now I'm a stairwell to the complex's basement with two entirely non-suspicious trashbags. He's going to properly dispose. He licks the fronts of his teeth and tastes blood, fat; metallic and creamy and smiles. He will get away with it again and again and again and again.
Natalie's hot dogs have long-finished boiling. She's lying in a pool of her own urine on her kitchen floor, dead. She is found soon after as the pot still on the stove causes some problems.
Anna and Todd have successfully avoided the watchful eye of her parents, once again.
The ant is fast-approaching an open elevator when cleaning lady runs over it with her cart, squishing it. She doesn't even notice.
Edward drank himself to sleep.