The new neighbor has an exhibitionist and often walks the hallway in boxers Chapter 2

I turned to head home, but Jude grabbed my collar.

"You think you can just walk away after injuring my foot? No way..."

I freed myself, turned, and again let my luggage drop—this time on his other foot.

Sadly, he dodged too quickly, and it only hit his grimy slippers. Gross.

"Why should I stick around? I'm not interested in your grilled sausages."

He got angrier, "What's your name? Who's your family? Pay up! Apologize! Or I'll call the cops."

"Go ahead. Complaining about a little bump like that—are you really a man?"

His face fell. He raised a hand to hit me.

I quickly stopped him, "Wait."

I dragged him toward our door, making sure we were in view of the surveillance camera, then offered my face.

"Go ahead, hit me. Each slap is at least $2000. The harder you hit, the more you pay. I'm just short a bit to get a new car."

I closed my eyes, ready to enjoy a little "Indian massage."

But nothing happened.

Jude's forehead vein throbbed as he gritted his teeth, "Don't you have any shame? You hit me first."

I rolled my eyes, "Got proof? If not, don't go accusing people. I'm a model citizen."

There are only three households on this floor. There's no surveillance outside his door, and the girl wouldn't help him. Plus, if it came to it, he'd have to answer for harassing a woman.

As we argued, the elevator opened.

My wife had just come home from work.

"Hey, honey!"

Jude's eyes went wide, darting between us.

"You have a husband?"

"You're from 602?"

It was obvious. Why was he surprised?

Jude suddenly snapped, "What gives? You've been flirting with me?"

My wife was baffled, "Are you nuts? When did I ever flirt with you?"

"You smiled at me, wore skirts I like, showing arms and legs, if that's not flirting, what is?"

"Looking like a seductress, you're clearly up to no good. Good thing I have self-control..."

Before he could finish, I slapped him hard, "You filthy mouth, I'll mess you up."

Holding his face, he suddenly looked excited, "There's a camera, you'll have to pay."

"It's mine. I could erase it."

He quickly backed off.

Under my glare, his 5'7" frame seemed to shrink further. He snapped, "You'll see," and fled.

As his door closed, the door of 601 creaked open.

The girl thanked us repeatedly and insisted on giving my wife a bag of fruit.

After hearing the whole story, my wife was furious.

"That filthy pig is disgusting. Wandering around with a sewing kit, spewing filthy jokes at every girl. It's so bad the girls in our complex are scared to go out."

"Yeah, but people have tried reasoning, scolding, even the property management mediated, but it's useless. Like he said, his actions are immoral, but not illegal. Even if reported, it's just a slap on the wrist. We can't do anything."

The girl sighed, "I'm really scared. I might stay with my best friend for a while. You be careful too. You're big and imposing, but he might try something sneaky. As the saying goes, better to offend a gentleman than a villain."

I nodded innocently.

But I was thinking: He's a villain, but I'm no gentleman.