My Roommate IFF

The Door Opens. Closes. The slightly masked stamping of shoes upon the rug covering our wood floors. I've always wondered if he knows what the welcome mat upon the other side of the door is for? Or if it is even apparent? Little puddles leave him to gather upon the floor in the hall as he makes his way past the coat closet and into the living room where I'm reading about The Republic.

Woaw! He shouts, laying claim to what he believes is his time. He shudders his red coat off one shoulder. It slides down his other arm onto where he puts his coats. Stomps his shoes again. Stooping his torso, and raising back up with a rinse of his hands across his face, through his hair, leaving him wide-eyed, hair-raised and ready to squander a tale.

man, like what an awesome ride, he says. He sits down on the sofa between his clothing. Like, well it's the first day of riding you know, and when I arrive- and before I arrive!-I sat in the car and just got dusted, he says, trailing off onto laughter as he cleanses himself again. I mean, like absolutely Shoooboing! Whoowzers! I am like off this planet. Completely ripped! So I'm in the car, and I am so blitz'd. And I told you, you know, how it's the first day of riding, you know, like I'm in the advanced course, And I am so baked! Pause for a quick scrub. Anyways, Just dusted, he says while quieting the crowd with his solemn hand. Like I'm done for-

Door opens. Dammit. Kick-off of shoes. Here we go again.

Dude! man! I just had like the best time of my life, he starts again, only he's standing because our other roommate is up, and I know, and I'm damn sure you know, he's up too. IFF only he knew.

Thank You Sexson, It is now a curse listening to my roommate tell stories.

Just so you know, I'm not kidding.