Noisy Neighbors

The music began, a slow, pulsating beat. It throbbed louder and louder until the windows shook in their panes.

“Oh, God, not again,” moaned Jen.

“Every night,” Paul said through gritted teeth.

The voices came next, a chatter of unintelligible conversations, from whispers to shouts, all blending into one cacophonous roar. Periodically an excited “Whooo!” could be heard over the din.

“The cops said they’d arrest us if we called them again,” Jen said as Paul reached for the phone.

“What about the priest?”

Jen stared out the window that overlooked the cemetery. “He said, ‘The dead do not… party.’”