Dear Upstairs Neighbor Who Isn't Brett,
I've noticed that you have been a little sedentary lately. How do I know? I've caught on that, even though you don't look it, you're a robot made entirely of a very heavy metal, tungsten maybe, and therefore are the Loudest Walker in the World. I'm fine with this because it helps pass the time when I'm home during the day. I can play Guess What Upstairs Neighbor Who Isn't Brett is Doing Right Now. It's super fun. Sometimes I guess that you're running laps between the kitchen and your room. Sometimes it's disco dancing or jump roping or Dance Dance Revolution. Do you have DDR? You don't seem the type but that's what it sounds like.
Anyway, you've been kind of quiet lately and it's got me concern for your health. Because I have figured out what you're doing instead of practicing your running jump kicks. You're playing video games. I can hear you. I can hear the guns and bombs going off. It sounds like Baghdad up there. It's not loud or anything. It doesn't keep me awake at night. But I can picture you with your eyes crossed and glazed over, drool coming out of your mouth and your hands clamped onto the control thinging, and it has me worried that maybe you're not taking care of yourself. I really got concerned when I heard you in the afternoon yesterday, then before I went to sleep that night, then when I woke up at 2, and then again at 7. Were you up all night? That is not healthy. And I need you healthy because, unbeknownst to you, you are my go-to guy if a rapist comes knocking on my door. I know that you have the strength, the will and the equipment to take anyone down and I'm counting on you to do so if duty calls.
Maybe you should take a break or something. There will still be plenty of bad guys to kill when you get back.