Mike Sutton's Blog: For prose apply within. - Posts Tagged "roommate"
Febtober the 16th.
"Fuck this!" I exclaimed aloud as I crumpled up the slip of paper with the note I had been writing. This shit hasn't worked yet. No more than talking straight to her.
I tossed the paper onto the overflowing pile atop the garbage, and wove my way through the warzone that used to be my living room. Only to stop short when my large toe found the keg that was buried in what looked like my clothes. Why were my clothes sitting out in the living room? Why were they on top of a keg? How many people did the bitch have over last night that they needed a keg? She had said a 'small gathering of friends'.
Just outside the door to my room I stepped in something wet, and slimy. Judging by the aroma, I was standing a substance that had at one time been housed in a person's stomach. That was the good news. Then I opened the door to my room. And realized that I would be sleeping on the couch until I could do a thorough cleaning. My hands clenched and if I were a fair bit dimmer, I would have punched a wall.
So I let the rage go. It slipped away slowly a bit at a time as I began to search for my cat. I found him stranded in the top shelf in my closet. Two days without food or water. Or a litter box. My shirts were ruined.
The rage began rising once more. I was going to murder the bitch. Twenty years in a super-max. It might be worth it. Maybe a good lawyer could get him off... she was always late with her half of the rent. She threw loud parties. She never pitched in to clean up her own damn messes. She just let the filth accumulate. He might get off a murder rap... Might.
Then it hit me. What would my cat do? So I went back out into the living room and checked the Keg. Still a little left. I could feel the grin spreading on my face as I filled my first glass. A few hours later there was a shriek, I woke up and rolled off the couch. "What's up?" I asked groggily. "How was the party?"
"Somebody pissed all over my room." I feigned stupidity and shrugged, it was a life skill. Yeah, somebody did.
I tossed the paper onto the overflowing pile atop the garbage, and wove my way through the warzone that used to be my living room. Only to stop short when my large toe found the keg that was buried in what looked like my clothes. Why were my clothes sitting out in the living room? Why were they on top of a keg? How many people did the bitch have over last night that they needed a keg? She had said a 'small gathering of friends'.
Just outside the door to my room I stepped in something wet, and slimy. Judging by the aroma, I was standing a substance that had at one time been housed in a person's stomach. That was the good news. Then I opened the door to my room. And realized that I would be sleeping on the couch until I could do a thorough cleaning. My hands clenched and if I were a fair bit dimmer, I would have punched a wall.
So I let the rage go. It slipped away slowly a bit at a time as I began to search for my cat. I found him stranded in the top shelf in my closet. Two days without food or water. Or a litter box. My shirts were ruined.
The rage began rising once more. I was going to murder the bitch. Twenty years in a super-max. It might be worth it. Maybe a good lawyer could get him off... she was always late with her half of the rent. She threw loud parties. She never pitched in to clean up her own damn messes. She just let the filth accumulate. He might get off a murder rap... Might.
Then it hit me. What would my cat do? So I went back out into the living room and checked the Keg. Still a little left. I could feel the grin spreading on my face as I filled my first glass. A few hours later there was a shriek, I woke up and rolled off the couch. "What's up?" I asked groggily. "How was the party?"
"Somebody pissed all over my room." I feigned stupidity and shrugged, it was a life skill. Yeah, somebody did.
For prose apply within.
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