I live with this guy.
There are times when it is strange.
A few weeks ago, I got home from work, and go into my bathroom to take a shit. When I'm done, I notice that, sitting next to the sink, like it belongs there, like it was always
there, is a bar of soap shaped like a cock and balls. We have never spoken of it.
Recently, we had a conversation of both depth and breadth. At one point, he said that he would, "do whatever with a girl sixteen or older; or younger." The semicolon was noticeable even verbally.
He has a cat. This cat? Huge asshole. He shits on the floor, and I swear he does it just because he knows that one of us is going to have to clean it up. Watch this,
he says to the other cat. One of these assholes is going to pick my poop up off the floor, and it's going to be awesome.
He watches as he lounges on a stack of comic book boxes, and I sit on the couch, hating him to death.
We were watching The Incredibles, and he says, "Violet is hot."
I say, "Sure, I guess." He says, "I just got you to admit that a twelve year old cartoon girl is hot. That's fucked up, man."
The cat has a tendency to get on the kitchen counter when nobody is looking and lick whatever fatty foods are currently sitting there. He thoroughly enjoys bacon. I really can't fault him for that one. Bacon is pretty incredible.
He puts up decorations for upcoming holidays. The decorations do not come down. "They'll come around again," he says.
When we go out in public together, he likes to make people think we're a gay couple. It doesn't work as well as he thinks, because no self-respecting gay man would wear socks with sandals outside of the house.
One time I get home from work, and he says, "Let me show you what I bought today." He draws attention to his belt, a loud affair covered in rainbow dinosaurs. The buckle is actually a seatbelt buckle from an old Ford. "Holy shit," I say. "Look at that shit. You know what the best part about that is? You put on your pants in the morning, buckle up, and say, 'It's gonna be a bumpy ride.'"
He takes unfair advantage of my paranoia. He'll walk into the living room and say, "Playing Metal Gear,
huh? Havin' fun playing that Metal Gear?
How's that Metal Gear
going for you? Is that Metal Gear
awesome?" What the fuck did he do to my Metal Gear? Has his cock been on it?
He, my girlfriend and I were hanging out, watching a movie. He's eating a Twinkie, and asks if she wants one. Apparently, she's never had a Twinkie before. "I think you should have one," he says. She tries one, and she hates it, she's halfway through, can barely even finish what she's got in her mouth, and he goes, "Yeah. Chew
it." He draws it out, slow, like he's molesting the words in the bathroom at Bojangles. "Please don't say things like that to my girlfriend."
I'm sitting in the living room watching TV or possibly playing videogames, and he comes out of his room. He asks me, "Do you want to see something incredible?" There is no right answer here. "Sure," I say, preparing myself for the worst. We go into his room, to his computer, where there is an embedded video on a porno site sitting there. "This is amazing." He pushes play. It's a big tit porno compilation...set to Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra. It starts off weird, utterly inappropriately, and becomes even weirder as, incredibly, they get to the hardcore action, and the girls' tits bounce perfectly in time with the music. He gets a weird, profound
joy out of this.
It was really fucking hot here a few weeks ago, and he comes into my room at around 2 AM, wanting to go to wal-mart and get some fans. "No, I don't shop at wal-mart. I hate it there, and I have moral objections." "That is some poncey bullshit. Come on, you're going to wal-mart, or I'm taking my pants off right here." "You go to wal-mart. Have fun. You buy the shit
out of some fans. I'll be right here, playing videogames." He unbuckles his belt, dramatically. It's easy to imagine him in a bizarre porno, the sort of thing you'd find in the bowels of the internet, the sort of thing that ends in a girl puking all over some guy's dong. "You are not taking your pants off, and I am not going to wal-mart." Thankfully, I was right.
Once, I got home from work, and he was having sex with his girlfriend with their bedroom door open. "Animals!" I shout. Mid-coital laughter ensues.
He has preposterously
good luck. I walked into the living room, and he's playing the Pokemon Trading Card Game Game for the Game Boy, via a Super Game Boy. I watched him flip heads nine times in a row. I'm fairly sure he would have kept getting heads indefinitely, but he stopped playing.
He gets unearthly joy from portmanteaus. I made a villain in City of Villains. The name he suggested was Killquetoast.
I have a rather extensive collection of nutcrackers. The christmas ones. He tells this to nearly everyone. "He has a rather extensive
collection of nutcrackers," he says, and usually starts laughing uncontrollably.
A friend of mine was recently going through some rough times, and was essentially wandering the county on foot, trying to straighten his head out. Whippy recommended that he get arrested. "Three hots and a cot," he says.
Edit: For the sake of clarity, I'd just like to say that I'm not complaining. Every day that I live with Whippy is a day where I have the opportunity to witness something deeply interesting.