The long boring summer is finally over and the first week of my 11th year as a college senior was amazing. I attended the auditions for the main stage play productions in the Theatre Department because I was honorably discharged from my post as Secretary of Buns at The Colin Powell Potato Base across from campus, so now I have enough free time to participate in the bigger plays. Well, luckily I was cast in one of the major league plays and I wanted to go out drinking afterwards to celebrate. Unbeknownst to me, the people that auditioned tend to split up into two different groups after the casting is finished, a group of the people that made it and a group of the ones that did not. I was all like, “why?” and then I was all like, “whatever.” So I and three other people that were cast went out to get lightly hammered at the bar.
I was riding in Jimmy Beamer’s truck with Marvin Goose and Clancy Rammerson to go to Thunderstorm Brewery downtown. We were happily chatting about various topics when Marvin began a conversation about things that shouldn’t be considered funny, but are. We rambled off a bunch of random pieces and then Marvin said it, he said ‘rape’. Everyone in the car gasped and Clancy said, “Hey Marv, rape ain’t funny in no shape or no how! You take it back!!!”
I felt that Clancy was about to jump over the double wide Chevy console and beat the living shit out of Marvin so I tried to shine a light on the brighter side of his statement by saying, “Well you have to remember that in every one on one rape, 50% of the people involved really enjoyed themselves. And if it was a gang rape then the percentage of people that had fun is even higher.”
Jimmy and Clancy took a slow puff off of their cigars and stared at me with a critical eye. Then Jimmy closed one eye and slowly said to me, “You don’t know what rape is, little boy.” I was scared shitless. I still consider myself as being a total plebe in this whole college theatre thing, but I’ve already figured out that these theatre people are unusually hardcore. So I explained to Jim and Marv and Clancy that yes, I do know what rape is. And here’s how I know.
So when I first moved into my current basement apartment there were two lesbians in hiding living upstairs. They were great face to face, but evil while I was alone in the basement. You see, I have no control over the heating and air conditioning in my apartment. It is controlled entirely by whoever is living upstairs. These devil dykes would turn the air conditioning off at night and whenever they left their apartment for extended amounts of time. I would fry down in my apartment while they were upstairs giggling and nibbling on their fur burgers or munching their whisker biscuits, just knowing that they finally had total control over a man’s well being. Then when they moved out, three very attractive young girls moved in and the air conditioning flowed like wine. It was amazing down here all day, everyday.
Now there is some newbie freshman or sophomore guy that is completely schizophrenic with his controlling of the air conditioner. He’s drunk at the wheel. There is literally no consistency with the temperature of my apartment ever since he moved in upstairs a little over a week ago. It was okay for the first few days as he kept it around 72 degrees during the day but then he would shut it off around 7:00 PM. By the time I woke up in the morning I was so covered with sweat that my hacky sack was completely pasted to one of my thighs and my sheets were glued to my back. It’s disgusting. Then this past weekend he turned it off on Thursday and by Friday night I was writing a suicide note because the heat was unbearable. I sat outside on the porch to cool off and it was 80 degrees outside. The temperature on my super expensive indoor clock said that it was 86 degrees… inside my apartment. Then when he came back on Monday he cranked the loving shit out of the AC and the temperature thingy on my clock read 67 degrees. The young man is crazy!
He drives a crappy-ass maroon Grand Prix from the late nineties and he puts up a sun shade thing in his windshield while it’s parked in the driveway. God knows he doesn’t want the sun to fade his seats and drive down the resale value of his car another $12. Not only that, but I can hear him get out of bed at like six in the morning. Combine that with the fact that he’s probably turning the AC off when he goes to bed at 7:00 PM, the guy is a fucking dork or he’s flat out fucking nutty. Only five year olds and the elderly go to bed and rise at those times. He’s like Cohaagen in “Total Recall”. I can hear him pacing back and forth upstairs, staring at the air conditioning control thing while he snickers and rubs his hands, gloating over the control he has to give or take away my air supply. That sinister little shit. He is raping me with the air conditioner against my will.
Well, he doesn’t know who he’s messing with. I take pride in my understanding of the passive-aggressive arts. I am a master of ruining someone’s life without ever becoming a suspect. Here’s a few of the possible revenge tactics that I may or may not use. First, I will let out roughly half of the air from one of his tires. He will fill it back up and then a few days later I’ll deflate the same tire again, but only about half way. Then after I have done this a few times I will deflate it half way and superglue the cap back on. This will cause him to think that he has a leaky tire, and then he’ll have it checked, and they’ll say it isn’t leaking, and then he’ll be like, “good”. After a while he becomes perplexed by this mysteriously leaking tire and then one day when he goes to inflate it, bam! The fucking cap won’t come off. I can repeat this act for years if need be. Then when Halloween time arrives in a few weeks, I’ll buy some pumpkins and make jack-o-lanterns. I’ll set them out in front of the house and he’ll think that I’m a huge homobutt nerd. Then when he goes to sleep I’ll go outside and smash the living shit out of those jack-o-lanterns right in front of his door. I live in a college neighborhood where immature and misguided acts of violence are pretty common. I will say that I’m sorry and stuff but I will not offer to clean up the mess. He will angrily clean up the mess himself and then I will buy more pumpkins, make more jack-o-lanterns, set them out front as if I’m a homobutt, and what do you know? They get smashed all over his fucking door again. I can repeat this for a solid two weeks and it will convince him that I am an idiot, which is good because once someone has written you off as being a moron you are no longer a suspect to the cause of his or her problems. Oh and guess what, Thanksgiving is right around the corner and wild herds of feral cats happen to live in the neighborhood. I wonder what those cats would do if I left bits of turkey in the trashcan every night? They might wreck the shit out of it and leave trash all over the front lawn… every night. And then I love decorating the house with Christmas lights for the holidays! I can put up lights so bright that Jesus flinches when he looks at them and focus a good portion of those lights right around the side window where this upstairs maniac sleeps. I’ll plug them into the socket inside my door so I have full control over the lights. I don’t give a fuck about how bright they are because I live in the basement. I can leave those lights up until February when Valentine’s Day rolls around. During that lovey-dovey time I will find a random girl on campus and get her name and number. She will either have to be way out of his league in terms of being hyper attractive or she should resemble a wild land animal that Sasquatch wouldn’t even offer a ride home from the bar. I will leave love notes and maybe create a fake email and/or Facebook page to express a colossal make believe crush she has on him. He will either fall in love with her, be disgusted by her, if he has a current girlfriend then that could get ruined, and no matter which scenario occurs… I win. And I forgot to mention that the fuse box to the entire house is in my bathroom. I can make a habit of resetting the switch that says, “upstairs bedroom” every night before bed just to make sure that his alarm clock doesn’t go off at the ass crack of dawn when he normally awakens. This little son of a bitch will regret ever touching the dial on that air conditioner controller box thingy that’s in his upstairs apartment!
More than likely, I won’t do any of that stuff because I am a big pussy. Speaking of pussy, I auditioned for more plays today which are called “One Acts”. After the auditions I was walking back to my den of insanity when I neared a young woman walking along the same sidewalk as me. Okay, so if you have ever walked across the UNK campus or driven a car through the Kearney Wal-Mart parking lot then you have most likely nearly run over an Asian student because they are everywhere. This young woman that I was approaching was a petite Asian angel and I decided to say hello. I said hello and she smiled back at me and said, “Speekiddy Eeegrish” in a soft voice. I responded with a sly grin and gave her the butterfly eyes. Then out of fucking nowhere it sounded as if a tribe of laughing Ewoks were over taking us. However, they were not Ewoks but were more Asian students that began talking to the Asian angel and she quickly walked away with them without even looking back at me. I felt rejected. I love accents and I thought that I understood her when she spoke, but apparently “Speekiddy Eeegrish” means “Fuck Off” in Ewokian. So now I’m drinking my vodka tonic alone again, without my little concubine to watch Jimmy Fallon and cuddle with. I’m beginning to realize how much my life resembles that of Cosmo Kramer, and that most of the people I currently go to school with probably have no idea who Cosmo Kramer is. Oh well, the older I get the more I know, and the less I care… unless it concerns my air conditioning.
coxturbo 