Roommates Forever
I don't see how you could ask me to move out of our apartment, Daniel. We're going to be roommates forever.
We've been friends since Bible School, remember? You threw the river rock that broke my clavicle, but instead of crying like a baby and hating you for it, I became your best friend. My clavicle still hurts when it rains, Daniel, but I don't blame you. I understand.
Are you kicking me out because of my severe allergy to peanuts, Daniel? I can't help it if I'm allergic to certain members of the Legume family, and I think a little sympathy is in order. I can't even fly on commercial airlines. The microscopic peanut dust floating in the recycled air would make my trachea swell up like a balloon. Just reading that biography of George Washington Carver made me break out in itchy hives, Daniel, and watching the Mr. Peanut commercials made me feel lightheaded and faint.
I can't help it, Daniel. This is the way God made me.
Please just tell me why you don't want me as a roommate anymore.
Is it because I'm an albino?
Or is it because I've repeatedly walked in on you and Stephanie having intercourse? That's honestly not my fault. I was simply investigating noises! I thought someone was hurting you! You should be thanking me. Ok, ok, ok, so maybe I mistook the sounds of your coitus for a tussle with some sort of prowler and maybe I knocked down your locked door with a fire extinguisher. Perhaps I did "freak out" (your words, not mine) and maybe I overreacted by hitting Stephanie in the mouth with the fire extinguisher. I thought she was a prowler! But I did pay for you splintered doorframe, Daniel, and I paid for Stephanie's reconstructive Dental surgery. What more do you want?
Just tell me why. Is it because of the whole urination thing? Because I still sleep in a bunk bed? Because I take your issues of TV Guide into the bathroom with me? Because I accidentally killed your dog with poison? Whatever it is, Daniel, we can work it out.
Are you kicking me out because of my so-called "obsession" with white tigers? (Once again, your words, not mine). It's not an obsession, it's simply a fascination. Whenever I'm feeling shunned because my skin lacks pigment, I look up at my tigers, and I feel like they understand me (which is more than I can say about you). White tigers are nature's albinos, Daniel. That's why I've put up all the tiger posters and collected so many plush dolls and porcelain figurines. I can’t get rid of them, Daniel, they’re all my babies: Jerome, Iceman, Tigerlily, Snowflake…
I even named one of my tigers Daniel Jr.
I may not understand why, but I can certainly take a hint. The way you smeared peanut butter into my socks. I’m allergic to peanut butter and you know that, Daniel. If I would have put my foot into that sock I would have died. That’s not what you want, is it, Daniel?
I may not understand why. Sooner or later, you’ll come to your senses, Daniel. You’ll see.
We’ll be roommates forever.
