One time I lived with a stranger from Nebraska who shit in her room and slept in a bird’s nest of moldy food each night. One afternoon I was sneaking around in her room and found a condom in her trashcan and a hammer on her bed. I don’t know what anyone else would conclude after chancing upon those items in someone’s bedroom, but I was certain that some hammer fucking had been going on, because a real flesh penis had never stepped through that door. Like the peeling of an onion, she revealed herself to be more and more disgusting each day, and here’s why…

1. She refused to flush the thick painting of poop smears from the toilet after she had her way with it.

2. She insisted on using only the most jarring and upsetting overhead lighting.

3. She purchased several large bottles of plainly marked feminine wash (for stinky crotches) and lined them up on our shared shower shelf, so that my guests questioned my own flora and fauna.

4. She would have fish fries with her toe-headed family on a weekly basis, usually when I had a hangover or was the hottest of the possible seven days.

One day I had a mental breakdown in my room and vowed to find a way to throw her out of the window and make it look like an accident. Apparently she had thought it was a good idea to leave the state for a week, and leave her cat behind for me to feed – but without actually telling me about it. After day five of not hearing or seeing her, I burst into her room to find a nearly dead cat instead of the bloated corpse that I had expected to find. For each offense against me, I would get my silent revenge by eating all of her food and looking through her checkbook.

From time to time, I would invite friends over and dare them to go sniff her room. I sort of miss her now, and the sight of her lurching past my open bedroom door at a creepily slow, Frankenstein-like pace. I often wonder where she is and what she is doing. I wonder how she would react if one day I just sent her an email that asked, “Does your vagina still stink?” Why do people subject themselves to roommates? Sure, it’s a nice way to save money, and you get to make fun of them for practically everything they do, but honestly … I can hear you farting in there.
KELLY MCCLURE