We gotta get out of here, there is a film crew taping us.

The weekend. Part 1.

I used to think that bad things only happened to good people. Then I realized that bad things happen to everyone, it just makes it worse if you happen to be a good person. No one gives a shit about bad people, in fact generally they mock them when bad things happen to them. "He deserved to die, he was an asshole," but they whenever someone good dies they say, "Patrick Swayze was a good person, why did he have to die?" I never really understood how these to things interrelate. How does whether or not you are a good person contribute to your mortality? I punched a child. I'm not dead yet.

The weekend. The bad things that happen are typically not great. This past friday I had the misfortune of awakening to the utmost ridiculous of conversations. Beginning with an ineffable shout, I was startled into consciousness by, "What the fuck dude, I don't even know you, get the fuck out of my room. Dude, dude! Get the fuck out." This was not directed at me, I was comfortably resting on a couch in the living room. As I looked around the room in this unfamiliar place I came under the realization of that person to which it is was directed. I will not use the names of the parties involved in the incident and their names will be replaced. The second yelling fit came about with the party in question, Mikhail Danacci citing that he didn't know, "what's going on? What did I do? Where am I?" I, Nike Tailleur lay still on the couch in the living room hoping with all his might that was had occurred was not the worst instance of human behaviour. I looked over at Byron Tarrançez, but hesitated to wake my counterpart. In what seemed instantaneous, a flight of stairs turned into a slide of injury and Danacci could be heard thumping down each riser and with each shuddering shake and bump he began collecting his consciousness.

The first words I heard directed at me were as surreal as the situation in which I found myself. "Nike, what is going on? There is a film crew, they are taping us, hide your identification, we gotta get out of here." I, relaxed and annoyed stated, "Go to sleep, nothing happened, there is no film crew." Danacci is not typically paranoid, but this was stupid. Why would a film crew want to be in this place? It was probably better he didn't realize what was going on at the time, as a piss-stained bookshelf upstairs and confused roommate looked on in disgust at the individual who had just desecrated the sacred learning tomes of contemporary economic students. What confused me the most, was why Danacci ended up in the 'other' roommates closet, asleep and arms crossed. Or how he got upstairs in the first place. The moral of this story is don't let sleep-walking piss takers sleep at your house, and two, use names that are better camouflaged.

What did the deaf, dumb and blind kid get for Christmas?

Cancer.

Bet you thought I was going to say a miracle.

qotd: "If the apartment smells like puke don't worry about it."