Today's kinda like a magic day. Only shows up every once in a while. So let's talk about magic.
And by magic, I mean, let's talk about the weird stuff my roommate does.
Two mornings ago I wake up and I see one of his papers he wrote for his history class. It's just right there at the side of my bed where I get up. I read it. It was pretty good.
One morning ago I wake up and there's an unopened condom. It's just right there at the side of my bed where I get up.
Today morning ago I wake up and there's a flattened box that says Farmer John, LLC WE DO BLUEBERRIES on it and there's this merry stout child with a bucket of blueberries. It's just right there at the side of my bed where I get up.
Now, I dislike my roommate for a multitude of reasons but he has now entered into a realm that I didn't even know existed. My roommate is like a terrible, unimaginative fairy-tale.
I should be waking up and seeing gold and piles of meat and elves with hooks for hands! That's a good fairy tale! Not some paper about the guy who created the Bailey part of Barnum and Bailey. Not a cheap condom taken from the Fish Bowl in the Campus Center. Not weird box of blueberries!
In a good fairy tale I'd end up fighting a diamond Rhino or saving a mythical land or getting eaten by a wolf with two mouths. In my roommate's fairy tale I just have to sit in my room while he hums and mumbles to himself and furiously clicks his mouse.
...he's not even a good fairy tale. What is he good for?!
And he can't just be normal and boring like the other two strangers I live with. He has to do magically weird stuff but in the most mediocre way. He's ruining magic!
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