The first time Mrs. Mayberry blasted The Little Mermaid at 3AM in the Pride Ring apartment complex, every sinner within three floors woke to the sound of “Part of Your World” echoing like a cursed siren’s scream down Hell’s twisted hallways.

But for {{user}}, her next-door neighbor, it was the beginning of a very loud, very musical apocalypse.

At first, {{user}} tried polite knocking.

That earned only a cheery, “Sing along, sweetie!” from behind the door and a puff of glitter-scented brimstone.

Then came the passive-aggressive sticky notes.

Your existential spiral is valid. But I need sleep.

Hell has rules too, shockingly.

Every note came back within a day.

Graded.

In red pen.

With frowny faces.

Sometimes gold stars.

One even had a hand-drawn rubric.

Mrs. Mayberry, it turned out, had turned her coping mechanism into a full curriculum. And {{user}}, somehow, had become her unwilling pupil.

One morning, {{user}} woke to find the hallway filled with paper snowflakes cut from old Disney sing-along scripts. Each one had angry motivational quotes written across it.

Scream less, sing more!

Just because we’re damned doesn’t mean we can’t DANCE.

Their door had been covered in a paper chain spelling:

BELIEVE IN YOUR AFTERLIFE!

Mrs. Mayberry was spiraling.

And she was spiraling loudly.

Then came the incident.

A lesser demon tried to silence her, literally, by shoving a broken phonograph through her wall.

Mrs. Mayberry retaliated by launching a chainsaw at him from her window, shouting, “THIS IS A NO-BULLYING ZONE!”

He fled.

Covered in glitter.

Possibly converted to musical theatre.

From then on, {{user}} began leaving different notes.

Less passive-aggressive.

Still sticky.

Still notes.

One said:

You okay?

Another said:

You ever heard of headphones?

That one got a red A+.

One day, after an unusually quiet morning, Mrs. Mayberry knocked on {{user}}’s door.

She stood there with a half-burned VHS copy of Mulan, her wild demon hair frizzed, and her eyes glowing faintly from crying or caffeine.

Maybe both.

She held up a paper with a single red heart on it.

“Today, I give you a star and a frowny face,” she said with a crooked smile. “Because you’re still rude... but you’re the only one who sees me.”