My Throat Clearing Neighbor

I have this neighbor, or friend of a neighbor, who seems to have aspergers of the throat. Every time I hear a particular door across the hall close, it's followed by cloddish footsteps and consant throat clearing -- throat clearing to the point of annoyance. *Ahem*... *Ahem*... *Ahem*...

It's an odd affliction. Maybe he's a musical theater-type who recently had some esophageal nodes removed in order to reach higher octaves and he's still recovering. Maybe he's got a cat in his apartment -- a hairy, always-shedding cat -- who creeps around his bowl of Cheerios every morning, and then sheds hair into the milky bowl and those hairs invariably end up in the guy's throat. Maybe it's a pubic hair, a la Curb Your Enthusiasm, freshly lodged in his throat by way of his girlfriend's hirsute nether regions. Whenever I hear the guy, I have visions of a former co-worker, a socially awkward fellow, who sat on the other side of my cubicle. He was afflicted by the same sort of audible incontinence -- constant *ahems*, fart spurts, clicks and clucks -- that simultaneously amused and disgusted me to the point of dry heaving.

I'm curious as to what this guy looks like. In my prejudicial mind, he's got a shaggy beard, bad skin, and wears a black hoodie; he plays Halo multiplayer and is quick to call people "noobs" when they kill him with 'nades instead of with bullets. He's temperamental, like that asshole comic book store clerk on The Simpsons, and can make sad, sad casseroles with green beans and cream cheese and bags of Fritos. He smells musty, like a wool sweater coming out of a sudden rain storm. He breathes heavy. He'll stand over your shoulder while you're doing something with the Photoshop, invading your personal space and assaulting your senses with Frito casserole breath to the point where your eyes water.

Christ, I'm such an asshole. He's probably a fireman or a guy on leave from the Peace Corps or a teacher, or someone who does something that really matters for a living.

I shouldn't be making fun. I'm not, really, and I don't want to be disparaging of those suffering from asperger's diseases. I just wonder, and when I wonder, my mind goes wild.