I'm on a killing spree

I can't stand his presence any longer. I can't hear his boots on the corridor any longer. He's always making noises. Noises, noises, noises amplified in my head with billion torturous echoes. And he never stops. Never. He never sleeps, either. Last night he moved the furniture. Than he mended his wooden desk. With a hammer. I wanted to go to his room and make a scene, but I was so livid, I couldn't move. So this is how I came up with The Plan.

I can kill him easily, I don't believe anyone will notice his absence too soon. His parents are in other country, and I don't think they care to know about his life anyway. He has some sort of girlfriend who stayed over a couple of times, but I don't think it's something serious. She will just think the motherf'er dumped her without even leaving an sms. Or a post-it. Can you believe the men today! Pigs. Anyway, I'll be doing her a favor. Her life will improve. And so will the air in my flat.

There are two ways to do it. The first one would be to hack him off in his room. Because this is how he'll die, with a big long sharp knife in his back. That's right, I don't want him to look at me when he dies. The coppers can scan his post mortem retina, dah, and it would lead straight to me. But this scenario will present me two almost insurmountable problems. 1 - we'll have a body in the house, wee need to get rid of it pronto. 2 - there will be blood. loads. Even if I get rid of the body, a forensic investigation will be able to determine someone was killed in the house, DNA match and bang, me being the prime suspect.

So no, he has to die somewhere else. In the elevator, late at night. I can lure him to go out with me to buy some chocolate, cus I'm afraid to go to the 7-11 by myself. He'll take the bate. I stab him in the elevator and leave the body there. I go down on a different floor, so it can't be linked to mine. The first unlucky bastard who'll take the elevator will discover the body, call the police. Next morning the pigs will be at my door, asking me when was the last time I saw him. I'll just say: last night he said something about going out for a drink. I don't know officer, it was late and I was half asleep. I went to bed; I just woke up now, when you rang the bell. They can't link it to me, they'll probably think it was a robbery. Some homeless git killed him for his money while he was trying to leave the building, and hid the body in the elevator.

Of course, I have to get rid of the crime weapon. I will thoroughly wash the knife and then use it to cut myself a juicy salad. It will look so innocent, trust me. The only problem may arouse if, when getting back to my apartment after killing him, I come across a neighbor. That can ruin the whole thing. I may have to kill the poor bastard too and pile the body in the elevator. He'll have no time to scream, trust me. It will be the classic Raskolnikov case, only I won't repent. Well, he is a leach, he is a parasite. And he smells bad too.

But, shussssh, ok?! I'll be doing it tonight.