"You and I need to talk." It's 9:00am, I have a cup of coffee, and I've already taken my vitamins. I have regained my sense of humanity. My "roommate," however, doesnāt look so great.
"Yeah," he says. "What about?" I don't like his sardonic tone, but what can you say? He's an asshole.
I pulled the blinds open, showering the room with sunshine.
"Jeezus, what'd you go and do that for??" he moaned, covering his eyes. Hangovers are terrible things. He pressed a cold can of ginger ale against his forehead.
"It smells a little like stale tequila in here," I said. I took a good look. He looked like shit. That phone call must have been a doozy. Oh yeah, the phone call. I remembered, and reminded myself not to feel sorry.
"House rules," I said. No response. "One, you knock, and I mean knock loud before you come into the bathroom. Two: even after you knock never come into the bathroom when I'm in there. Three: you put the toilet seat DOWN after you piss. Four: you do NOT bring any bimbos into this apartment. This is not a "love shack." Get it?" I paused to get his response.
"And?" was all he asked.
"AND you tell your buddies to call at a decent hour. It took me freaking forever to get back to sleep after your early morning conference at 3 fucking am."
He took a sip of the ginger ale. "Okay,ä was all he said. Okay?! I was really hoping for a better response than that!
"Are you mad at me?" he asked innocently. Do I deck him now? or later?
"Yeah," I said calming down in the face of his politeness. " I really wanted to knock your head off.ä
I think I actually hurt his feelings. He looked hurt and contrite.
Finally, he said, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I've just been having a rough couple of days. I apologize." He looked at me for a moment, pathetic.
"You okay? You look like you've been run over by a train." I asked, genuinely concerned.
"Yeah, Night train. It's a..."
"Yeah, I know what it is. What the hell are you doing drinking that stuff?" He went into his Chicano/New York act giving a bad Latino Brando imitation. "Me an' my boys, we like to party da hard way, you know chica?"
"Oh, yeah. Sounds like a barrel o' laughs." I said.
"Just don't throw up on the sofa, okay. And clean up the bathroom if you make a mess."
"Hey, where you goin'?" he whimpered. He looked pathetic, like a little boy who's mom was leaving him.
"Itās Christmas Eve! Iām going shopping!"
