Saturday morning I wake up hung-over. Suddenly I realize: I need water. I run to the kitchen, but Charlie, the rat, is right in front of the door. Charlie has lived here since we arrived, 6 months ago. “I’m leaving, Simone, this place sucks!” He has a small little satchel in his paw, “I’m moving out.” “Charlie wait, we’ll clean up the place, we can adjust your rent, don’t go…” But before I can finish the sentence, Charlie lets out one last squeak before disappearing inside a giant cat, tail and all.
“The bitch from last night left her tiger here,” yells my roommate Dan, while he puts on his jacket and runs out, “See you later Simone, see you later Meecho!” The tiger waves good bye, “See you later, baby!” I definitely need some water.
My water bottle is sitting under the table next to the half-eaten tuna sandwich that’s been on the floor since last week. I notice where Charlie had nibbled at it and I start to get emotional. But the water bottle is empty. I try to pull myself together, because I have only one choice. I have to drink the water from the tap. But when I turn the water on, a milky liquid comes out. It looks a bit like mayonnaise. I can’t drink this shit. So I open the fridge. I notice a strange alien spore colony growing on the broccoli and cheddar soup from last Christmas. It starts to pulsate. I grab the first plastic bottle I see and I drink.
2 hours later…
When I wake up, I’m face down on the floor with a big puddle of drool all over the carpet. I must have fainted. And now, god knows why, I need to piss. After I sprint to the bathroom, I notice a crocodile resting in the bathtub right next to the toilet. There are even large bite marks in the shower curtain. “Well Simone,” I tell myself, “I think it’s time for us to move out as well.”
- Simone la Cuercha