Is he a cretin, a creep, or a cunt? Does he require payment for crossing the bridge he lives under? Will he ever stop sizing up my food? Does he wear a robe to work? Is he a evil genius or a retarded monkey? Can he stop masturbating in my bedroom? I don't have the answers to these questions. What I do know, is that my roommate, Ian "The Bite Situation" Kelley ((Not to be confused with "The Closet Situation") of MTV's "Spaghetti & Meatballs Shore") is a man that likes his eggs raw and his women hairy.
If I knew where this mad man came from I would tell you. He just showed up at my doorstep one day with the book of Mormon in one hand a 5 foot bong in the other. This walking contradiction at my doorstep offered 1st and last months rent and a security deposit made up of "Good Vibes". I was so keenly interested in this peculiar stranger I opted not to use my better judgement and give him the available room.
The following weekend he moved in with nothing but the bong, the book, a Dale Earnhardt Jr. poster, and an assortment of lubes, jellies, spices, and robes. The very first day I remember eating chicken nuggets and watching Judge Joe Brown in the living room. I went to the bathroom and when I returned I was definitely two nuggets short (ACYN or Always Count Your Nuggets). I thought, "This nugget stealing cunt is gonna pay. I'm gonna tea bag his ham sandwich". Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed and I rolled with it. His repugnance and mysteriousness were too compelling. I couldn't wait to see what happened next.
Mr. Kelley didn't disappoint. I didn't have to watch CSI: Miami to deduce who left the trail of Vaseline fingerprints on the floor, from his sock drawer to my sock drawer. When he wasn't crawling around the apartment he would spend up to 6 hours a day in the bath singing German fight songs. His lengthy conversations with the neighborhood stray cat would always end with Kelley blaming the cat for, "Fucking up the St. Louis job".
Mr. Kelley's cute quirks don't come without a price. He suffers from Acute Appliance Amnesia (the clinical term for not being able to turn appliances off). His inability to distinguish on and off turns the apartment into a goddamn carnival every night. Mix in the knife throwing and bearded ladies always lurking about and you've got Coney Island in our apartment.
Eating in our apartment is like eating in a prison cafeteria. Throughout every meal I can feel his eyes all over my meal. He is a registered food offender in 6 states. Hence the name "Bite Situation". When he's not raping my food in the shower or talking to cats or leaving lights on or singing German fight songs or rummaging through my vibrator drawer, he's not so bad. In fact I kinda love the big freak.