Friday, March 04, 2011

Creepy Brings Home A Head

by James Jarvis
from Living With Creepy The Soap Fondler

    My roommate walks in the door and says:

    "I got a head. Wanna see it?"

    Uh, oh, I thought, it's happened. My 52 year-old, schitzophrenic, Boo Radley-like, ex-attic-living, wall-talking roommate who speaks directly to Marilyn Monroe and Jesus, has finally snapped that last neural chord.

    "It's in my room," he said as he sashayed towards his room.

    Jesus, I thought, there goes my use of the Creepmobile. The cops will wanna impound that. Crap, they might even steal my laptop "as evidence" (we ALL know what happens to laptops in the L.A.P.D. evidence room).

    "I'm really proud of this," my roommate called from his room.

    My milk crates! I thought. They'll confiscate my milk crates!

    "It's still in good shape," my roommate said as he opened the door to his room.

    Great, I thought. Wonder if it's anyone I know. I know where he hid the body. He hid the body in that godawful (Creepmobile) trunk of his.

    "It's got a Prince Gut," my roommate said as he handed me the swap meet tennis racket, "Prince Synthetic Gut for my Head. Head is a good brand. The best. Did you know that? It is. The best. A Head. Got it for $4 at the Roadium!"

    Okay. THIS time it was a tennis racket, but I'm still expecting something gruesome from my roommate someday. Just not today.
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