Can You Spare Some Change?

I was living with two male roommates, one large and one small. The large one left a hefty dent on the love seat he took over as his own, since no one wanted to sit there due to visible moisture both on the seat and neck rest of said area. Aside from being woken up by jerking off sounds from the unfinished room next door, entering the bathroom daily was a feat of its own. There was habitually some sort of soot on the toilet seat. Both sides, front and back. This soot looked like that of a thin layer of Crisco, dusted with some sort of ass dander, not hairs per se, but a dark filthy dander.

The small one had some baggage and by baggage I mean another guy. This freeloader slept on the couch and had a cocaine habit and no job. I would wake up and go to work in the morning and bother him on my way out. It was quite a site watching a grown man, in dingy tighty whities, jump to his feet with 47 cents in change stuck to his hairy back. He would be locked in the dander filled bathroom with my laptop and a cigarette for over an hour at a time.

After going out of town, I returned one afternoon to find the smaller roommate laid out on the couch with a smoke in his mouth, the ash being the entire length. It cascaded down his shirt to a pile of ash and three other cigarettes put out on the hard wood floor. Trying not to get upset, I went into the kitchen where egg shells and dozens of rotten limes were flung about, but the sink was empty. He had put all the greasy dirty dishes in the cabinet. I retreated to my bedroom, where the freeloader had strict instructions to stay clear of, as he had a girlfriend. I found my beautiful bed defiled with what I suspect was a shit stain and rolled up panties on the floor.