By Sloane Solomon
Well, it’s that time of the year again. The air is sticky, the weather is crappy, the beer is foamy and the frat boys are in heat. Back to school. More specifically, back to Tallahassee.
It’s only six weeks into school and the dog poop has hit the fan. Let’s just get right into it: My roommate is a crazy bitch. After more than a year of constant bickering and backstabbing, she finally sent the conflict into overdrive.
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A few weeks ago we got into a little disagreement about how to train Walter, my puppy. I’m not sure why this girl thinks she knows anything about training a pet. The only fur she comes in contact with is fake. (Which, by the way, she’ll tell you is real. It’s not.)
Walter was tied up outside our apartment on his dog run, and, like all Basset Hounds, he was making his displeasure well known with a 20 minute long howl. My roommate comes in and asks me if I can shut the thing up. I tell her I can stuff her in the trunk of my car if she thinks that will help muffle the sound of the howls. She sneers and walks outside to smoke a cigarette.
I see her outside on her phone but I figure she is just calling one of her cronies to complain about our fight. Twenty minutes later Crosby, my other roommate and Walter co-owner, gets a call from our landlord asking us to please remove our dog immediately.
Now, let me tell you something about our landlord, Ms. Crazy Pants: She has a rap sheet a mile long, filled with tales of unparalleled vindictiveness.
Exhibit A) Before I signed the lease last year I was warned by her BEST FRIEND to reconsider living with Crazy Pants.
Exhibit B) Last year she had a strong distaste for an ex-roommate and KILLED HER FISH WITH BLEACH!
Exhibit C) Over the summer her ex-boyfriend was spotted talking to a beautiful blonde. She walked over to the blonde and BURNED HER WITH A CIGARETTE!
Exhibit D) Again, her ex-boyfriend was talking to a girl at a nightclub, and what does she do to stop them? SHE PULLS THE FIRE ALARM AT A CLUB! She’s completely deranged.
Anyway, someone wanted Walter out, so Crosby and I walked around the neighborhood questioning our neighbors, our mailman and the bum that lives on the bus stop bench. Eventually Crosby decided to confront our demented roommate and ask her if she was the one who told on Walter.
“Basically, she said she didn’t do it, and then gave me 20 reasons why she did do it,” Crosby said.
Reason 1) She hates me.
Reason 2) Severe daddy issues.
Apparently, it was my roommate’s mother who got involved. In typical Miami-mom fashion, meaning she has nothing better to do with her time than spend her money on Botox and ill-fitting workout clothes, she had launched a phone assault on our poor landlord, who had to call and ask us to remove the dog. The mystery was solved.
The dog is staying for now. But that bitch of a roommate has got to go. I don’t care if Kofi Annan has to show up at my house and impose a diplomatic sanction. The tension is so thick in this apartment you could cut it with a spoon.
So what have I learned from all this? Walter has proven yet again to be the worst investment ever made, and you never, ever renew a lease with Crazy Pants.
Feels like a mirror of your life? Email Sloane at outloud@outloud.com