you are entitled

i am more comfortable being hated than i am being in good standing with people. right now my roommate is angry with me. she plays california dreamin’ over and over as loud as her little macintosh computer speakers will allow. who knows what she had planned for today when she pushed the snooze button on her alarm clock and rolled over back to sleep, but i must have ruined it for her by staying home unexpectedly. (i am tricky. i left as soon as she awoke, while she was pissing. then i returned suddenly with a bag of groceries and began to make myself breakfast at the stove. when she asked me if i had to work today i lied and said no. “not at all?’, she queried. “no, not at all,” i replied, calmly stirring the contents of my frying pan.)

in fact, i must leave the apartment at 4:25pm, approximately two hours and forty-five minutes from now. i lied hoping that her bathing and dressing and leaving would be hastened, and her hope of enjoying the afternoon at home alone quickly extinguished.

my other roommate comes home and i am thrown into the present tense, the present situation. it cannot be ignored. he places two 24 ounce malt beers on the glass coffee table and switches on the light. i say hello and shock him. when i look away the light configuration changes.