As many of you may be aware, Christma-I mean, Winter Break, starts this weekend. Because Ana is leaving in the morning, room chores are being done today to ensure that everybody puts forth work. It wasn’t until midnight that anybody realized - the fridge needed emptying.
It wasn’t so bad at first. A water bottle, a pack of cheese to throw away, a bottle of orange juice that probably should have been thrown away a week ago. And then, we found it.
The tupperware bowl of oatmeal that Brittani had made us… months ago. We’re thinkin’ it was around October. Either way, this was a horrifying discovery.
“No big deal,” we thought. “We’ll just go dump and wash it out in basement.”
The basement was closed until winter semester starts.
“Well… how about the laundry room? It has to have seen worse.” (Ana’s contribution to this argument involved garments touching buttholes and pussies and penises and yay alliteration!)
But, of course, nothing in our lives are ever easy. The cake (a second gift from Brittani that we needed to clean out) wouldn’t come out of the bowl. We tried smacking it. We tried thumping it. And as Kyla handed it to Ana, THE cute boy in the hall walks into the laundry room. The bowl crashes to the floor. Cake is everywhere. We’re giggling hysterically. He’s confused and just wants to check his drier. Which is where all the cake crumbs are. He retreats.
Next, the oatmeal. Kyla opens it as Ana is trying (unsuccessfully) to remain standing and not fall over from laughing at how horrible life is. There comes a terrible noise from Kyla, and she RUNS OUT to the trash room across the hall. AS the RA starts walking by. Kyla frantically comes back to the laundry room and pounds on the door to be let in. Ana stares at her, conveniently forgetting the key is in her own hand. It takes a second for Ana to underp and let her roommate in.
RA avoided, here comes cute boy round 2! At least he had a legitamate excuse for having fled earlier - he now has a laundry basket. Trying to avoid eye contact with the two madwomen at the sink frantically trying to stop giggling long enough to do the two freakin’ dishes that have taken ten minutes. He tiptoes over the few remaining cake crumbs and retreats, once again.
The madwomen gather their defeated foes - dripping wet tupperwares and a fork - and run the whole fifteen feet back to their room. After fumbling with the key, they rush into the safety of their cave. Kyla collapses on the floor. Fatality.