My Roommates Are Trying To Kill Me: Day 3

We pick up where we left off.


I got up yesterday morning to a very feminine knock on my door. I opened the door, eyes half open to see Fussy Joe standing at my door. He was smiling. Naturally I inquired as to why he was looking at me the way he was, and he then pointed to my feet where I saw a 3/4 full bottle of Pepsi with something white on the top of the dark liquid.

"Is that grated cheese?" I asked.

"Why yes, yes it is," The Fussy One said with a smile "it's got some jelly in there too."

So that was my breakfast. A bottle of Pepsi, grape jelly, grated Parmesan cheese, and just for a little kick, nine whole packets of sugar waiting for me at the bottom of the bottle. Little did this Lilliputian turd know that I have the ability to chug just about anything, so I poured the Pepsi into a pint glass and took the whole thing down like a champ. Hey, at least they turned the volume up, so to speak, and got away from the bags of sour skittles.

The rest of my day was uneventful, I almost fell asleep at my desk, walked around JP prospecting new clients, and bought two new DVDs at the Best Buy down the block. Upon returning home, I found the Fridge in the kitchen making what I consider to be the best dinner I have ever seen. He was cooking chef trimmed, low-fat breasts of chicken with mixed vegetables over white rice. Little did he know that I was gazing around for something to stab him with so I could steal his dinner, but I stayed my hand and opted for some cold pizza as an appetizer to what was to come later on.

So Fussy Joe comes home with the same squinty-eyed shit eating grin on his face. I was playing Call of Duty on XBox Live when I hear Fussy's infamous "ENJOY!" coming from the kitchen. Placed in front of me where two slices of bread, I didn't know what was inside, and to be honest, I really shouldn't have looked, but the sandwich contained the following:


Two pieces of multi-grain bread
Two pieces of sliced chicken
Mayonnaise
Soy Sauce
Grape Jelly
Salt
Hot Cocoa Powder
Marshmallows
Spit (probably)

I took several quick bites of the sandwich and knew that I was in trouble. It was so salty that my throat closed the second it was inside my mouth (that's what she said). I hated it so hard, but I was not going to let that little midget a-hole get the better of R Von D...so I endeavored to persevere. I got the brilliant idea to make the sandwich into two open-faced halves with the chicken, hot cocoa, and jelly on one side and everything else on the other. Looking back, I should have eaten the salty half first because the chicken and jelly went down no problem. It actually wasn't as bad as I had originally made it out to be. The soy sauce, salt, and mayo side proved to be a bit of a challenge. Maybe it was too salty. Maybe it made me gag. MAYBE I had to get up and dash for the trash can. MAYBE I didn't make it in time. MAYBE I threw up on my pants thirty seconds before my girlfriend walked in the door and I had to run around the house cleaning myself up before I said hello to her. Things happened too fast to recall in such detail, but she had no idea what had just happened until Fussy Joe told her about it hours later when he came home from his Gay Pride night at Margaritas.


After that, I sat on the couch with my steady gal, drank three shots of Pepto, and watched "Forgetting Sarah Marshall." Nothing better than a pleasant evening with a good movie and good company. Then Fussy Pants came home and ruined everything. He kept going on and on about how the rest of the week is going to be torture and asking me if I wanted any dessert. I calmly explained to him that for a little pup he does a lot of barking but not a whole lot of biting. Of course, he took offense to such a comment and went in the kitchen to make me a shake. The shake was:

Milk
Soy Sauce (his new go-to)
Mustard
Mayo
Piss (probably)

I got a whiff of this stuff and knew right away I wasn't going to get it down. However, in a bit of psychological warfare, I added about a shot and a half of Johnnie Walker to the drink. He thought I was doing it to look tough, but I was actually doing it to take away some of the mustard and soy sauce smell. Funny thing about milk and mustard is, when combined, they tend to have an adverse effect on each other, and the milk curdles instantly. Nothing like mustard and sour milk to get your stomach going. Seconds later, I was bent over the sink, throwing up the entirety of the shake. BUT, I did manage to get the whole thing down, so it still counted.

The good news is, I was actually able to sleep last night and the Sox won, so the night wasn't a total loss I guess. I must admit though that my confidence in my abilities is a little rocked after last night, but I have only a day and a half to go, and the stupid retards didn't make my breakfast today so I got another freebie. Also, I lamented last night to my special lady that I really am starting to miss vegetables. Like, really. The little fat guy is really starting to miss his greens.

And then there was evening, and then morning. The Third Day.