I wrote about how I packed up my belongings and moved out of the apartment, away from the hambeast that dwelled within it.
I’d like to share some stories about my encounters with Jacob, starting from the beginning. In hindsight, I should’ve seen these red flags, but I was too naive and oblivious to really scrutinize them.
Cast of characters:
- Be me: 5’7″ former fatty, trying his best to lose his weight, hitting the gym every day, trying to eat healthy, generally handsome and prince-like
- Don’t be Jacob: 5’6″ morbidly obese roommate (300lbs of what-the-fucking-shit), general food-stealer, chronic bullshitter, uncontrollable liar, occasional racist
Let’s get this started, shall we?
It was just around the first week I moved in with Jacob. He was quiet and kept mostly to himself. Little did I know that it’s always quiet before the hellstorm.
I went out and bought some fruits and filled the lower part of the fridge with them. I was just starting to make juice — two parts veggies, one part fruit. I did receive some passive-aggressive notes from Jacob, mostly along the lines of, “Please keep the noise to a minimum in the mornings.” I respected that, so I began to make the juice at night and stuck it in the fridge to consume in the morning. I organized the fridge according to my juice plan and went out to hang out with Jenny for about two or three hours.
When I got back, I thought, I’ll have an apple to munch on while I read. I opened the fridge to see all of my fruits, gone.
Jacob was in the living area, his laptop balancing on his grotesque, distended stomach.
Me: Uh, hey, where are the fruits that I bought today?
Jacob (nonchalantly): I threw them out.
Me (in shock): You did what?
Jacob: I fucking told you, I threw them out.
Me: Why the fuck did you do that?
Jacob: Because I fucking said you make too much fucking noise in the morning making your shitty smoothie.
Me: I HAVEN’T MADE THE DRINKS IN THE MORNING EVER SINCE YOU WROTE ME THAT NOTE.
Jacob: Ugh, you still make them at night.
Me: BUT YOU’RE AWAKE…?
Jacob: Whatever faggot. You’re better off having ice cream anyway. Look at your twig legs. How can you walk around with those?
Me: WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?
Jacob: Dude, fucking relax. God, you are just like every single skinny faggots I see around campus.
Me: Fuck you, you owe me for those fruits you threw out.
Jacob (snickering): Fruits are for faggots!
I walked out from the apartment, slamming the door in the process, and went to the park to calm down. Little did I know this wouldn’t be the first time having a confrontation with Jacob.