If Beelzebub had a pet snake it would have yellow eyes that looked two directions at once, could burp the alphabet, and could use it’s cold pornographically inclined tail to hook, and lift up the corner of my dress. Those eyes, that tail with moves that would startle a Soprano’s table dancer and that raspy hiss of a voice would be fairly close to describing the horror that was my last roommate.
What possessed me—literally—to say yes to this person? Yes you can stay a couple of days I believe were my exact words. A couple of days … it still haunts me. I read somewhere that if you are truly cursed it holds for a year and a day. And so approaching the twelve month marker, I started to think, well this is it. The creature will somehow manage to drive off all my friends and family and I’ll be devoured en toto. Eventually people will resurface to look for me and they will only find this thing, this person with the eyeballs gazing East and West simultaneously with a vapid smile, lounging on my leather sofa and gripping an oversized Spider Man figure.
Luckily, the fact that I don’t wear a stacked hairdo, my eyes don’t bulge (much) and I’m completely lacking in tattoos added up to an early parole. I just didn’t measure up it seemed, and life was too predictable and sane. Spaghetti once a week? Why aren’t you laying me out on the table to drink jello shots off my stomach? You talk to your parents? Why? You’ve never been arrested? In the words of Paulie from the old neighborhood, you’d think I had a load in my shorts the way I got treated around here. But hey, normal and predictable paid off; the roommate left, so … Bada Bing! and pass the garlic bread already.