My First Roomie

I met Joe when he showed up at my place. He came with his bags and said that it was nice to meet me and that he was my new roomie and that he was sure we would get on fine.  Then he laughed

 And things would have been fine except that he used to steal from me.  He would take money out of my wallet and one time he took my toothbrush and hid it in his shoe. He would do these things when I was looking right at him.  I cannot even tell you how fucking angry that kind of shit made me.

He also drank too much and would take a lot of pills.  One time he told me that he was going to drink and take a lot of pills and that he might not wake up for a couple of days but whatever I did I shouldn’t call an ambulance.  I said okay.

The next morning he didn’t wake up, or the morning after that.  On the second day I started to put cigarettes in his hand and I changed his shirt. I didn’t want to change his pants. It made me feel better with him sitting there in a new shirt.   A lot of me was worried sick all day but in another way it was almost less worrisome just having him there without stealing from me.  That shit seriously made me mad. On the third day he woke up.  He got up and unplugged the clock radio and put it in his duffel bag and walked out the door.

Joe came back a week later, still wearing the same buttoned up shirt that I had changed for him with only one side of said button-up tucked in the front and a mustard stain that looked like no attempt had been made to to purge the yellow and crusty smear.

If I could describe Joe I would put him in the same box as as someone named leonard yet suttle, a suttle Leonard...

Joe had apparently been in some kind of trouble by the appearance of the contents of his personal belongings and in the county prison bag that contained them.