It came to my attention last night that there is a small sect of Tibetan Monks that have moved to our roof top to escape the atrocities that are ravaging their home land. My wife speculates that it is a homeless man but I think we can all safely assume that she is wrong.

I tried calling to them like a fool but they would not abandon their vow of silence. They instead launched gifts of good tidings upon me from the rooftop. I have received a torn blanket, head lice and feces thus far but they have never failed to greet my arrival home for the day with a display of projectile overtures of love.

I can here them at night patrolling the 4 corners of the roof to make sure that we are safe from the Cossacks and other hordes of roving bandits. I have little doubt that they have saved my life and their kindness has not gone unnoticed.

Today I launched a kitten up onto the roof. Somewhere I remember reading that cats are a monk’s best friend. It wasn’t even 30 minutes later when the smell of roasting flesh cascaded down over the walls. It was clear the monks were hosting a feast to welcome their new arrival.

They are much better neighbors then the Doctor who moved in next door.