According to my sources, Jabba the Hutt, that fat bastard who's been making my life miserable since he moved into the building over a year ago, dropped dead yesterday morning.
And my first emotion was happiness. Yep, I was glad he was dead. And then I was relieved, because at least he didn't take the building along with him. (Jabba was on oxygen and was a chain-smoker, both at the same time. He had already started one fire in his apartment because of his careless smoking.)
But mostly, I am glad that I will not have to listen to that fat bastard's TV set blaring at three o'clock in the morning anymore.
I guess that makes me a bad person.