SHORT SERIES: The Funny Business of Suite 305 and other Tales of Infamy (FINALE)

Disclaimer: This is a Short Series of stories that are either of true, actual or loosely based college experiences. Please read previous episodes first before reading this one. Thanks so much for your support. Please comment, criticize, make suggestions or say “hi”.

To read Episode 1:

To read Episode 2:  

To read Episode 3:

To read Episode 4:

To read Episode 5:

To read Episode 6:

Short Series: Episode 7 (Finale)

                May was crying the entire ride to the hospital and I comforted her the best I could. The entire morning, I slept in the waiting room while they examined her. The nurse insisted that May would be okay through this and would be in good hands with the physician. In the examination room, there was a female physician as well as a nurse to attend her needs. A police officer introduced themselves as detective Alara Benning and carefully proceeded to ask me questions about the incident. Detective Benning, tall and dark skinned, reminded me of one of my sisters. She also wore her kinky hair in a bun and looked at me with red framed, sleek glasses as she questioned me. Something told me, that I could trust her. Was it my gut instinct, I am uncertain?

                “I know that this is a sad and distressing time,” Detective Benning started, “but, we need to have as much detail as we can to solve this…crime.” She glanced at me, then looked down at the pad and pen in her hands. Before she began to speak again, she sighed. “Can you tell me, what happened to your friend?” At that moment that she asked me that question, so many thoughts raced through my mind. I was thumbing through them, not certain which one to express to her first. “Well…” I started, “May went to an off-campus party with a friend and when I came back to our dorm room, she was…” I raised my eyes to look into the detective’s eyes. I began again, “something just wasn’t right with how she looked, her mascara smeared she was in and out and bawling on the bed.” I shook my head before I began again. “She was a wreck and if you knew May the way I know May, she’s usually a sunny Sunday with Unicorns and flower petals. A real sweetheart. Innocent.” Maybe even naïve. I told the detective everything we experienced up until we came here to the hospital. Detective Benning nodded a lot, shook her head some and even paused to ponder throughout the entire discussion. Finally, she gave her last nod and said, “Okay, I have enough information to file in my report. I do hope that May is well taken care of during this devastating process and that the culprit…” she paused, then started, “that the suspect is found and charged. Later, I will discuss with May what happened. We will get to the bottom of this. Thank you so much for your time and the information you shared.” She shook my hand and left the waiting area. It was sad of course, all of it. I am stressed out about the situation and I cannot imagine what May is experiencing.


                May was released from the hospital the same day of the examination. She asked me to call her mother and tell her that May is safe right now, but she will need her mother to come and pick her up from school. Her mother was shocked when I told her this expressed her shock and unbelieving over the phone. “She actually wants me to come get her? May told me that she wanted her independence that she can do it all alone, without me.” I then said to May’s mother, “I think it’s best you get here right away, she needs you…now.” That was the end of that conversation.

                Immediately after May left, a few students talked to the police about the incident, the rape that occurred at the party. No one really knew it was happening, but it did. Later that week, the details were revealed that May was lured into the green house in the back yard of the party house. She had already had too much to drink and it was unclear, at the time, if other drugs were given to her without her knowledge. When I heard this, I was very very upset. They kept the name of “the suspect” with the detectives investigating the incident, but I felt he shouldn’t be protected. Why must May leave, and this person allowed to still be among friends and still go about life normally? The scenario was so unfair to me.

                After a few months, May called me on the phone. We chatted online and via e-mail often throughout that time. She was safe and attended a school that was close to home, whereas, she could commute back and forth instead of staying in the dorms. I was so happy for her, though she was reluctant to stay at home, with her mom. The case of her rape was still under investigation at that time, but she kept very upbeat about the outcome. Her light within unwavering. Still living life about unicorns and rainbows…still finding the optimism through everything and every aspect of her life.

The End

SHORT SERIES: The Funny Business of Suite 305 and other Tales of Infamy (Episode 6)

Disclaimer: This is a Short Series of stories that are either of true actual or loosely based college experiences. Please read previous episodes first before reading this one. Thanks so much for your support. Please comment, criticize, make suggestions or say “hi”.

To read Episode 1:

To read Episode 2:  

To read Episode 3:

To read Episode 4:

To read Episode 5:

Short Series: Episode 6

                “Hello, security booth, may I help you?” Someone replied, then yawned loudly into the receiver.

                “Yes, my roommate…something has happened to her! She might be sick! I’m not sure…she’s drooling heavily on the bed…her limbs are withering like a fish out of water…can you help or can someone please call 9-1-1!? I think we need an ambulance!” I shouted into the phone, panic making my heart throb erratically and ache.

                Could I have been a bit more insensitive and melodramatic? This wasn’t my sort of thing, caring. I did fine with just Malcolm; he did not expect anything from me, but laughter at his half-baked jokes. He’s not my boyfriend; just a friend that was a boy. Nothing more, nothing less. Anyway, lets get back to the story at hand…I was at the good part.

                After I got off the phone, I rushed over to May. Her eyes were opened, and they stared straight ahead, her mascara that she wore on her lengthy lashes were smeared and wet. I felt so sorry for whatever torture she might be in now. I waited for her to speak, but as I waited, I wondered if she would ever be right again. I wondered if she can feel safe and open enough to express to me what had happened to her. Also, I wondered if this night would forever change our lives. For most of this semester, I seemed to have taken for granted that my roommate might have been a cool friend, if I had given her the chance. At this very moment, I delicately took her hand and said to her kindly, “May, are you alright?” She flinched a little at my touch, not from disgust or anything like that, but more so that she was waking from a daze. “May…could you tell me…how many fingers am I holding up?” Quickly, I held up three fingers, then, two to make sure she saw the difference, maybe. She had not spoken a word. I hoped and prayed with all my might that the ambulance was coming…

                I must have dozed off beside her, somehow, I was relaxed enough to sleep.

                “Regina, where am I?” May said, softly at first. Did I hear her? Was I hearing her while I slept beside her? May rose slowly from the bed and asked, “where am I?” Still making my way out of slumber, my deep brown eyes flickered open. I looked to my right, as she was sitting on one side of the twin bed now, while I was still on my back on the other side of the twin mattress we shared. I had not left her side. Somehow, I was able to sleep?

                “May…what happened, you look a wreck!” I sat up quickly realizing that what happened a few hours ago, happened. Why was the ambulance not here or school security? Then, before I can hold myself back, I got up and put my hands on both her shoulders and shook her a little. Pleading for her to tell me what happened, I sought in her eyes to find the answers that she kept. “Tell me…” I pleaded. Wait…did she just call me Regina? That’s not my name, has she forgotten my name?

                Before I could recover, she answered with a confused look on her face, “Well, I think…I think…” Why doesn’t she just come out with it! “…I think I was raped.” Instantly, I gasped, then I was angry. Where was the ambulance? I thought. Well, if the school security didn’t help, maybe the Residential Assistant can help. First, I assured May that I am not leaving her, but must leave the room to speak with the Residential Assistant. At first, she tried to stop me from telling anyone and bawled some more into her hands and on my shoulder as I hugged her and patted her back, reassuring her. After a few moments, she allowed me to speak to someone for help.

                With swift purpose, I walked down the hall to speak to the Residential Assistant, Ashley, about getting an ambulance here or at least driving May and I to the hospital. Ashley suggested that we left for the hospital discreetly to file a report and examination for May. On the way to the hospital, May laid in the backseat covered in her favorite comforter which had unicorns with colors of red, yellow and blue. Ashley drove while I rode shotgun brooding to myself. Wondering how this happened and how I wish I could have interrupted something like this from happening to someone as sweet and delightful as May. She is so kind and never bothers anyone, not even me, and I live with her. How can I help this girl, through this hardship?

To be continued…

SHORT SERIES: The Funny Business of Suite 305 and other Tales of Infamy (Episode 5)

Disclaimer: This is a Short Series of stories that are either of true or loosely based college experiences. Please read previous episodes first before reading this one. Thanks so much for your support.

To read Episode 1:
To read Episode 2:  

To read Episode 3:

To read Episode 4:

Short Series: Episode 5

                “Bad to dah bone…(dah-nah-nahnah-nah) bad to dah bone…” I stuck a lollipop into my mouth, while that rhythm played in my head repeatedly. My ‘fro was intimidating. I noticed that as I walked along the road into the open eyes of all on campus. I also noticed the sky…the gray clouds that hid some aspects of the dying horizon, the sheer radiance of a sunset. One French teacher (I don’t make it a habit to name names but Dr. Jules’ wife, Dr. Pauline Jules.) walked by stiffly, tagging along a briefcase behind her. Yeah, I should be studying right now for my Introduction to the Exceptional Child test, but I was just being…” Bad to dah bone…” Talking about bones, Shanelle Thompson just passed by, talking about “I see your ‘fro!” I know sista! You want one, don’t you? I thought and narrowed my eyes at her direction. As I said so, I gently patted my soft curly ‘fro. Suddenly, this one guy, tapped my ‘fro with his pencil! I span on him and raised my hand to issue a pimp slap and he flinched. I turned back around and continued to pat my ‘fro down to perfection as I strolled to class. I stepped into the class and closed the door behind me, gently, gently. Holding my breath, I released the knob and exhaled softly. Yes, I’m n the “I don’t give a fudge, don’t you dare touch my ‘fro mode and being totally, incredibly, and understandably, “bad to dah bone.” My lollipop was now bits and pieces of candy in my mouth. I just woke up, see, not totally awake, but only awake enough for the world to believe that I was awake. And when I was asleep, my mind would be awake. Huh? Nevermind that, I still silently sung “bad to dah bone” in my mind and would continue to croon that tune for the entire evening. My instructor announced that she would be giving a “written activity.” No…It’s a damn test!

                Tonight, Thursday night, had been slow for some. May went to a house party without me, I didn’t mind because house parties are just not my style. Too risky, if something was to happen, well the responsibility would be on the individual to make sure they keep safe. So May left the suite dressed in some stone washed jeans…right, stone washed jeans and a baby blue t-shirt with a unicorn’s head on the front. I bid her good luck since the party was also in an off campus location and I don’t know who owned the house. May told me she got the flyer in her Educational Psychology class and one of her female classmates will be attending with her. Later, I came from the library, yes at two in the morning. The security guard was nice enough to let me out after I realized I was the only one left in the library and no one bothered to tell me it was closing. When I entered the dormitory building, as usual, I took the stairs instead of the elevator for fear that I might get stuck in it and catch a case of claustrophobia. In my mind the fantasy was playing of how I will jump in the sack (bed) and dream of home, the beach, the warm sun, the calm breeze and…oh my God! I walked into my room to see May keeled over on her bed, in what looked like slime or throw-up. What was May’s problem? She withered on the bed, as though she was having slight seizures. For the first time in my life, I panicked! What was going on with her? Was she on something or was she hurt? “May, May…” I was moved to shake her, but I feared retaliation.  She was incoherent, even when I tried to read her lips as she mouthed something to me, but her eyes were closed and sometimes half-mast. I simply had no idea what to do for a moment then, Plan B. Call security! I rushed to the phone shaking from simple fear…fear!
 To be continued….

**All Stories in this Short Series: The Funny Business of Suite 305…is of true, actual with a touch of fantasy events I encountered in my college experiences.

SHORT SERIES: The Funny Business of Suite 305 and other Tales of Infamy (Episode 4)

Disclaimer: This is a Short Series of college stories that are either of true events. Please read episodes 1 and 2 first before reading. Thanks so much for your support.

To read Episode 1:
To read Episode 2:   To read Episode 3:

Short Series: Episode 4

                My suitemate, Rebecca Lopez, was already acting crazy as well. I also wondered if she’s on medication half of the time.

                Rebecca Lopez lived in the room across from May and I, within the same suite. You see, her sanity was also in question, regularly. One night, I stepped out of my room and saw Rebecca standing butt-naked, totally nude, in a dark corner of the small lobby between our rooms! This was buck wild and outrageous! This is a woman’s dormitory building, but no one would have liked to walk in on this scene. In astonishment, I said, “I’m sorry” and she replied cheerfully, “that’s okay!” No, it was not okay, it was terrifying! “Okay” people didn’t stand in their birthday suit’s in dark corners waiting to surprise a person whom just needed to pee in the middle of the night. I mean, I got crazy sometimes and got buck-naked in the privacy of my room, when my roommate went home every weekend. But I would do that privately, without giving someone a heart attack or a mild stroke. After I went into the bathroom, cautiously closing the door behind me, I heard her make sounds that crossed between a hyena-like laughing and hysterical crying. Frankly, I was really scared, and I couldn’t tell the difference between the two. Once I used the bathroom, I ran into my room, closed the door behind me and dared not to look back to see if she’s in the corner.

                Before Rebecca’s surprising debut, I was talking about her with my friend Malcolm. He was a junior, but we became friends after bumping into each other at the library. I felt that everyone should have a friend named Malcolm. Someone to gossip with and helped pick out cute clothes to wear. Anyway, I was expressing to Malcolm how bloody bitchy Rebecca could be sometimes. You know she would put on the air conditioner when it’s hot and the air came out hot, so it got even hotter! It won’t change! He was also telling me how cool she “used” to be her freshman year (she was also in her junior year), especially when she used to have “sexual relations” with Tyson “Panamanian god” Delgado. Well, she is bitchy now, that was all that mattered to me. There had been rumors (Malcolm told me) about Rebecca’s current boyfriend, Jorge Mateo, beating her. I didn’t know the truth, but sometimes I heard her in her room crying. I hadn’t seen her in three months until tonight. Malcolm and I also touched about her inappropriate clothing. She wore tight clothes all the time. I felt a lot of remorse for her because of the abuse she may have experienced. Maybe she would have been a different woman if those things did not occur.

                In the middle of my thoughts, my roommate dropped in talking about a party some fraternity was throwing tomorrow night. Partying was not my cup of tea, but hey, why not? It’s going to be club night tomorrow night, so all the girls down the dormitory hall pumped up their stereos and went buck wild in the hallways as they dressed in their “next to nothing” skintight outfits. I, on the other hand, stayed in my room with earplugs in my ears while reading knowledgeable books such as the “Isis Papers” and “The Miseducation of the Negro” or sometimes, I braided my afro, so that it would be fresh and clean the next day. By this time, tomorrow night, it would be my night to shine, so you know I had to hook up my ‘fro tonight. May and I planned to go along with some male friends of hers. I have no idea where she met up with these two. One of the guys, he said his name was Danny, drove the car while the other guy, Avery sat in the back seat next to me. May sat up front with Danny. They both chatted and laughed mostly with each other while Avery and I sat quietly in the back seat. After a few minutes during the ride he quickly introduced himself and asked my name and major. I took my time to answer and said, “My name is Jana and my major is in English”. I had not wanted to add much more information being that I may never see him again…maybe.

                We arrived at the party after ten-thirty in the night and the music was heard before we got there. Students stood outside the frat house, drunk from red and blue cups dancing or mingling or both.  Danny, May, Avery and I made the walk up to the frat house passing classmates some known and unknown. May and I walked side by side and was apparently nervous, she even curved her pinky finger to clasp my pinky finger as we walked in sync. Without speaking, I obliged and hung on with my pinky to hers and we glanced at each other not knowing what to expect when the door opened. This was both our first experience being in a frat house. Danny and Avery have been here before being that they both would like to pledge for this same fraternity one day. Throughout the night, the music blasted and thumped while May and I tasted our first sip of the spiked “punch”. That sip took us to cups and cups of punch, which had hidden ingredients we had no knowledge of even now. Danny came for May to dance a slow song and Avery attempted to ask me for a dance, I accepted after he asked three times. Third times the charm.

                Morning comes about quickly, and I sat up in bed to survey the small clustered room. May sat at the desk writing or something. The writing seemed intense, so I assumed that it was a letter or something. I greeted her and quickly entered the daily ritual of brushing my teeth and took a shower.

                My nine-thirty class was mad boring and irritating as well. Everyone in this class acted as though they wanted to throw rotten apples at the professor. He just stood there and blah blah blah for an hour and a half. Half of the time I sat there and wrote poetry or passed notes to the person next to me asking for gum. It’s senseless, I knew. It made my brain numb my limbs. But I was also…I blanked out for a second there. I couldn’t help it, but I needed my sinus medicine this morning, so now I was drowsy and irritable. All last night’s activities and drinking the “punch” concoction at the frat party. A fantasy came into mind…after this class; I would crawl into my warm soft comforting bed. It was calling out my name…I blanked out again! “If you let your emotions control you…” Dr. Solomon blabbed on and on, creating a web of boredom. If I was to let my emotions control me at this moment, I would conquer him and set the class free from this torment. Then, I would become the heroine of the day, standing on his desk with my left arm raised high into the air, my right arm fixed on my waist and my left leg bent and on the top of his bald head! But that’s just a fantasy…man, would I stop blanking out!

To be continued….

**All Stories in this Short Series: The Funny Business of Suite 305…is of true, actual with a touch of fantasy events I encountered in my college experiences.

SHORT SERIES: The Funny Business of Suite 305 and other Tales of Infamy (Episode 3)

Disclaimer: This is a Short Series of college stories that are either of true events. Please read episodes 1 and 2 first before reading. Thanks so much for your support.

To read Episode 1:

To read Episode 2:

Short Series: Episode 3

                May. That’s the name of the girl that slept in the bed adjacent to mine. She acted as though the world would end when the toilet clogged. No. The world would end if the toilet exploded in the result of a huge number! But, of course, I wouldn’t know…it may or may not have happened to me before. Anyway, changing the subject quickly…I know she’s a sweet kid and all. She said “hi” when she entered the room and “bye, see you later” when she left. Except for last night, she was a pretty neat person. She took messages well, too. Really, did I even know her? I just realized that I knew nothing about her. Well, I know she’s a freshman like me and she might be eighteen, also.

            Her mother, Helen, called about twice a week and boy did she have mouth on her! The first time her mother called, and I answered the phone, I was almost deafened! Her voice was high pitched and almost to a squeal.

                “Hello, is May there? This is her mother!” She sounded like she was playing a game by the name of “holler as loud as you can.” I answered, of course, after I was finally able to put the phone to my ear.

                “She isn’t in right now; would you like to leave a message?” I offered.

                She in return, answered, “Yes, could you tell May, that I, her mother called to see if she took her medication, and oh…I hope she’s wearing the glasses I bought her? Well, is she?” Lady, why you asked me?!? I only noticed glasses in the picture on May’s desk, but I hadn’t seen her wearing them in real-life. The picture was of May and her mother standing side by side, but they never touched in the picture just stood with their hands clasped in front of them. May wore a yellow plaid and white dress with sleeves up to her elbows and the length of the dress was below her knees. Her hair was combed back in one, delicately, with the ends of her ponytail flowing over her shoulder. As they stood there in the photo, they both smiled, smiling without showing their teeth, their lips seem pursed and tight.

                I snapped back to the present moment and so, I lied to Helen pertaining to her questions. “Yes, she’s been wearing her glasses why? Isn’t she supposed to?”

                “Of course, I’m just making sure everything is in order. Please, let her know I called and to return my phone calls, immediately. Thank you.”

                Later, my roommate thanked me for lying for her, but she chickened out. “I didn’t know you lied for me, so I told her everything! I even told her that…”

                “What?” That what? I was suspicious now.

                “Oh, I can’t remember!” She blurted out while throwing her arms in the air, avoiding eye contact.

                Now I remember! Suddenly, it became clear to me. “I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,” was the song that now played in my head. I just remembered when her mother asked about May taking medication. What kind of medication I wonder? Maybe that is “what” May was not able to remember or what she didn’t want me to know…That girl was crazy as hell!

                The next time her mother called I was going to ask “So, what type of medication, for what kind of mental disorder is she taking medication for?” It’s got to be a mental disorder! Definitely, she wasn’t right in the head, especially after last night, putting poop in bags and bringing it into our room was insane. Besides, when that clogged toilet thing happened to most people, they just walked away and pretended the next guy or gal did it. But again, I didn’t know anything about that either…humph. I needed to know if she’s psychotic, so no funny business occurred while I slept.

To be continued….

**All Stories in this Short Series: The Funny Business of Suite 305…is of true or actual events I encountered in my college experiences.

SHORT SERIES: The Funny Business of Suite 305 and other Tales of Infamy (Episode 2)

Short Series: Episode 2

                Morning stumbled in too quickly. The sun trickled over my face, and the warmth was so inviting. Birds sung their individual melodies outside of my window and the sky was clear and filled with the sun’s alluring rays. Almost a perfect morning. I got up, slowly stretched and yawned tiredly. The morning seemed normal enough except…my roommate, May, wasn’t in her bed. What time was it anyway? At that very thought I turned to my alarm clock; it was 9:50am! I was late, oh no! I sank back into my bed, hid under the comforter. Now, I didn’t want to face the day. The day was not perfect and luminous anymore. The bird’s melodies turned into broken notes and noise. The sky wasn’t perfect anymore, it was just plain old sky…and the I remembered last night!

                The question that came to mind was the million-dollar question: Was the bag of my roommate’s disgusting pile of waste still in the corner of the room? I dared not look over the coziness of my comforter and saw in horror that terrible Wal-Mart blue bag of gore! But I did…look over my comforter, and there it was! This Wal-Mart bag, blue from suffocation or rot or was that the natural blue that the bag was in prior to its contents? The poor bag sat on my side of the room, about 12 inches from the opening of our room door. I cringed, and there was a sound that came from my stomach, clearly it was upset! Honestly, I didn’t know what stopped me from throwing up, but the tears that welled up in my eyes, helped to hold back the wave of nausea that kept hitting my tonsils up and down like a yo-yo. Staring at that bag made me feel sorry for the poor thing. Yes, I felt sorry for the Wal-Mart bag that couldn’t throw up what was inside of it. *GAG*

                I became irritable and angry, more so enraged almost to a blasted roar about this whole situation. It was as though I was experiencing varying degrees of…grief! Here I am, waking at 10 o’clock in the morning, and where had my roommate gone? How did she not trip over her mess before she left the room? Who could possibly do such a thing and forget it hadn’t happened with the evidence in the room! I was outraged again. Reminding myself quietly, silently that I am in control of my emotions even in an unrealistic and ridiculous situation as this one. My eyes slid closed, I counted to ten and relaxed a little so that I could just focus and think. Where could she be? I knew she didn’t have classes on Tuesdays at 10…wait a minute! Today was Wednesday, right? Before I can think any further, I hurried to my calendar and it indicated that today was Wednesday! I didn’t have class on Monday, Wednesday and Friday until 2pm! Yay! Noooooooo…so, now I could relax until my roommate gets in and throw her, disgusting and repulsive bag of poop at her!

                The rest of the day went well. The library was my sanctuary for the day, and I got quite cozy in the dark corner where the fiction books were shelved. Everything went especially smoothly, after May finally removed her “dirty little secret” from the room. I told her to dispose of it in any way possible. Also, I suggested to her to go down the hall to the community bathroom and flush the thing down the toilet when no one was around to see or smell it! So that it doesn’t come back to us that we are blowing up the bathroom in those sorts and ways. She needs to take the bloody thing out of its misery and dispose of that Wal-Mart bag immediately after. Gosh, who potty trained her!

To be continued…

**All Stories in this Short Series: The Funny Business of Suite 305…is of true or actual events I encountered in my college experiences. Names have been changed and some other details as well.

SHORT SERIES: The Funny Business of Suite 305 and other Tales of Infamy (Episode 1)

Short Series: Episode 1

As I opened my dorm room door, a gust of arid air swept my brow with such a gust my contact lenses tightened to my pupils. She sat there on her bed, mumbling to herself, and I began to ask her if she is all right but hesitated. Then, I changed my mind.

                “Are you feeling alright?” My Cruzan (I was from the island of St. Croix, my dialect is called ‘Cruzan’) accent was not heavy, but it slipped out hardly noticed by her ears.

                “You have no idea, you have no idea…” she kept repeating as if she was trying to convince herself to manage with whatever unspeakable horror. I could tell she was sweating badly. The neck of her shirt was soaked and her forehead shone with speckles of sweat. Her pants was soaked too, or wet, but matted down at the groin area, and she seemed fragile and timid.

                What would make someone sweat so? I disguised my ill thoughts, though I could only imagine three scenarios: a rape, a beating, a rape and a beating, or someone embarrassed her in the cafeteria. Then, I wondered if she was just psyching me out, you know…the college roommate prank. I wasn’t going to fall for it one bit, she better talk it out right now!

                I almost shouted at her, “what is it…tell me!” My voice rose a little higher, to emphasize immediacy. It had been almost two minutes now. It’s after one in the morning, and nothing good happens during that time of the night! As I stood by her bed bare-footed and in the polka-dot pajamas my mother made especially for my freshman year in college. She parted her quivering lip to speak, and I anticipated that at any moment she would blurt out what had her breaking out in sweats and quivering like a giggling Elmo. Maybe…maybe I didn’t want to know or maybe I shouldn’t know…Now, I knelt in front of her whispering, “what is it May, tell me.” Then, she expelled like I’ve never seen anyone expel before!

                “I can’t tell you! You won’t understand! I’m in a situation!”

                I egged her on, “come on, you can tell me.” I even managed to smile in her sweaty little face and my hand on her shoulder was succumbed with sweat.

                “I…I…” she slowly started. It was happening; she was finally opening up… “I…I…ummm…clogged…clogged one of the community bathroom toilets!” The words just tumbled out of her mouth.

                It was too shocking! No…you didn’t clog the bathroom toilet! That would have me sweating in places that I could never imagine too! She couldn’t  look me in the eye…and I couldn’t look her in the eye either, because I wanted to laugh in her face so damn hard. For the sake of understanding, I found myself saying, “oh, that happens to everyone,” then, I get up from where I knelt in front of her and proceeded to go to my bed. After a pause, I whispered under my breath, “once in a while.” Suddenly, she lunged at me and grabbed my arm, bringing me closer to her.

                “Wait…” she pleaded, with the full effect of all her sweat and tears that stained her face. The smell crept into my nose. Yes, she smelled bad, but I stopped inhaling anyway. Something told me to be a nice roommate and listen. Hey, what are roommates for, eh?

                “It didn’t go down, and I…I…” I knew what she was going to say, before she said it.

                “I know, I know, you ran like hell and left it in the bowl. Everyone does that when the water starts to rise…” I said with a shrug of my shoulders, but that was not the end of it…I assumed.

                “No, I put it in a Wal-Mart bag!” As she said this she pointed to a small blue Wal-Mart bag in one corner of the room. I looked in the direction she pointed to and realized that it was in my corner of the room! And then, my eyes popped! Yes, I was blazing mad! But…most of all, I was scared as hell! What the hell was going on here! One clogged toilet and the girl went clear out of her mind!

                She continued, “most people don’t stick their hands in the toilet to take it out…” she said with a pout. “At least, I washed my hands.”

                Maybe my imagination ran wild, but I could actually see her running into the room picking up any plastic bag in sight. Then, she ran back to the bathroom and didn’t even debate the sanity of the situation. Stick your hand in…ewwwww…

                I gagged in my throat, but fought the case of acid reflux that came up suddenly. My mind was screaming, “And you touched her! WASH YOUR HANDS! Better yet, take a shower, quick!”

                I turned to her, with a frown and said, “Are you crazy?” There was no response. She stared at me, which did not look good.

                Then, her bottom lip quivered again, she frowned…and all of a sudden she stood up. Niagara Falls! She began to blubber all over herself, cried while she tried to explain, “I know you couldn’t handle it, I know you wouldn’t understand!”

                I was forced to listen to this for the rest of the night. Her crying and sniffling was the lullaby that put me to sleep. Was this really happening? Would I wake up the next morning and not find that bag of poop in the same corner of my room? I’d be sick if it was there!

To be continued…