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Ode to a Roommate (First published in Fascimilation.com, March 2004)

If there is one thing constant in my life, it is you, my beloved roommate.  In the past four months many things have come and gone in my life.  Hopes and fears have rushed in and been forgotten.  Autumn arrived and departed.  Diseases have appeared and been suppressed.  You have remained.  My God do I wish you would leave.

My day starts with a closed kitchen door onto which I must knock for permission to enter.  I guess it never occurs to you to leave the kitchen door open.  The sight of you hunched over the kitchen counter devouring your cereal then plagues my still droopy eyes.  Your insistence on taking your morning feeding in such an uncomfortable position amazes me each day.

Every evening, when I arrive home from work, you are there.  As sure as fresh dog doo will squish between wide-set toes; you are there.  I attempt to escape your ubiquity in the kitchen, but, before I can start my dinner, you suddenly decide you need the stove.  After dinner, I try to do my dishes, but you commandeer the sink without a passing thought that asking permission may have been appreciated before shoving your backside into my cod region.  Surely I would be forgiven if just once I gave you a swift kick in your oversized posterior.

 With the memory of the nightly kitchen ordeal dangerously suppressed, I attempt a few moments of relaxation in the living room.  There is no luck to be had in this den of despair either.  My fragile mind and weary eyes are subjected to the sight of you on the couch in that nightgown oh too short.  As my gag reflexes cause my eyes to scurry to the television, I find the exact same show on every single night.  My already frayed nerves are then subjected to an hour of adolescent programming and your cackling laugh that could raise the pontiff's blood pressure.  Retiring to bed is my only solace.

 And then tonight, you broke my coffee mug.  Not an expensive mug, but the monetary value paled in comparison to the sentimental value.  The mug had been a favorite of my late grandfather.  You knew its value to me; I could tell by the look in your eyes as you explained how you broke it.  You didn't apologize.  Therefore, I'm left to assume that you wanted me to take your explanation as an apology.  I took it as further proof that the basic rules of interpersonal relationships are as a large a mystery to you as are the basic rules of bio-nuclear physics to the red-tailed squirrel.

 Having said all of this, I harbor no ill will towards you.  You mean no harm.  You are simply stumbling through life hoping that your nights of sitting on the couch with a mouthful of diet cookies will be rewarded in the afterlife.  Some people are born dim-witted and sloth-like; it wasn't your choice, simply your lot in life. 

I wish you all the best when your days of haunting my home life have drawn to a close.  I am sure that you will make some man very happy some day.  That poor fool.  Take care.

Non-Fiction

Ode To A Roommate

The Curtain Mystery

Relieved in Europe

Staring 30 In the Bald Spot

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