Kinda The Worst

I am so sick of jazz. That’s all he ever plays, even though I’ve asked him to stop. But he always goes on about how he’s a “world famous, multi-millionaire jazz performer and has to practice”. The audacity! He might be famous, but I’m dead! Doesn’t he know that you’re supposed to let the dead rest in peace? It’s not my fault that I broke into a mansion and died from a heart attack at the sight of so much wealth. How was I supposed to know that would happen?

Of course, that was many years before Mr Davis came along. I didn’t mind him at first, and to be honest I didn’t hate jazz either. But it’s all he ever does! I’ve started annoying him in the hope that he’ll look for a new home and I think he’s finally cracked. I’ve been pushing for him to talk with some about conveyancing. South East Melbourne has some pretty fancy homes,  and this one is worth a lot though. Probably more than most people can afford. I hope he finds a buyer soon.

I call him Melbourne’s worst person, but that’s probably an exaggeration. He’s not that bad. If I didn’t have such an affinity for contemporary orchestral music, I wouldn’t mind jazz. And Mr Davis does have some fascinating hobbies other than jazz. He doesn’t play it himself all the time, obviously, but when he’s not practicing he has jazz on the radio or his phone anyway. I wasn’t alive when video games were a thing though, so I find those pretty interesting. And Mr Davis does have a very impressive shoe collection. Still, I’m looking forward to the day that the title transfer is complete.

I heard that Mr Davis wrote a blog post about me the other day, which is why I’m posting this. I want people to hear my side of the story. Yes, I keep telling him that I’ll haunt him even if he moves. Yes, I am booing at his concerts. It’s fun. People always look around for the one person that is booing an Australian music legend, and they can never find me. And now you know why.