A sudden symphony of tone-deaf singing came from the upper level. The blood curdling noises came closer and closer as my American Idol reject of a roommate came down the steps to the kitchen.
“Baby baby no muscle man could sever, my love for you is true and will never…Stop for a minute! Baby I’m so glad your mine…” (Who can name that song?) My roommate Whitney (His real name is also a girl’s name) is a odd guy and coming from me that is saying a lot!
Whitney shuffled down the steps carrying on the tune aloud. His pubic like curls of hair had become so thick and stale that it had become a certified white man’s afro. The L.A. race riot of a hair do on Whitney’s head was accompanied by a matching facial fro that was not trimmed, a weathered and ripped paper-thin red based plaid shirt, and stained and torn khaki working pants. Whitney looked and smelled homeless, but there was a method to his madness, which I will explain shortly.
When Earl saw him I was almost certain he threw up in his mouth. Not only could you hear Whitney before he entered the room, but you could also smell him. He reeked of piss, alcohol, and body odor a scent called Convulsion I believe, I’m sure they sell it at Nordstrom’s. Earl was appalled and hi
s mouth hung open in shock, which was probably not a good idea as I’m sure he was just swallowing the putrid ness odor exfoliating from Whitney’s body.
Earl finally gathered himself to speak, “I, I, I – Do you need to be fucking retarded to live here?! What the fuck Whitney you not only smell like shit, but you look like you fell out of someone’s asshole!” Whitney gave his patented giggle that sounded like he was clearing his throat; this was done usually in conjunction with a quick one liner he was getting ready to spit out. “Funny you mention that Earl because that is exactly where I came from, in fact it was your mom’s stretched out rectal tubing. Schloop! I fell right out!” Whitney sang out the last line of his witty remarks, turned to me and quickly blurted “No offense, Art.” “None taken,” I replied. Whitney then quickly added, “Which in some fucked up way would make me your brother Earl so come, hug me now.” Whitney stretched out his arms and went straight for Earl. Earl let out a feminine like shriek and jumped up as if some sort of venomous snake had found its way into his lap.
“Get the fuck away from me you sick bastard!!!” Earl yelled in a panicked manner pressed up against the nearest wall like it was a tall building ledge. He looked as if he was watching a vile murder take place right in front of him. “I might get Hepatitis just by looking at you!” Earl cried. His next question staggered out of his mouth, “Wh, Wh, Why are you dressed like that, why haven’t you showered I mean…(long pause) what the fuck Whitney?!”
To me this was everyday life, a reality show waiting to happen, “My roommate Whitney.” It had taken Whitney about two months to pull off this look and that was about 6 months ago. It was all a part of his plan.
“Baby baby no muscle man could sever, my love for you is true and will never…Stop for a minute! Baby I’m so glad your mine…” (Who can name that song?) My roommate Whitney (His real name is also a girl’s name) is a odd guy and coming from me that is saying a lot!
Whitney shuffled down the steps carrying on the tune aloud. His pubic like curls of hair had become so thick and stale that it had become a certified white man’s afro. The L.A. race riot of a hair do on Whitney’s head was accompanied by a matching facial fro that was not trimmed, a weathered and ripped paper-thin red based plaid shirt, and stained and torn khaki working pants. Whitney looked and smelled homeless, but there was a method to his madness, which I will explain shortly.
When Earl saw him I was almost certain he threw up in his mouth. Not only could you hear Whitney before he entered the room, but you could also smell him. He reeked of piss, alcohol, and body odor a scent called Convulsion I believe, I’m sure they sell it at Nordstrom’s. Earl was appalled and hi
s mouth hung open in shock, which was probably not a good idea as I’m sure he was just swallowing the putrid ness odor exfoliating from Whitney’s body.Earl finally gathered himself to speak, “I, I, I – Do you need to be fucking retarded to live here?! What the fuck Whitney you not only smell like shit, but you look like you fell out of someone’s asshole!” Whitney gave his patented giggle that sounded like he was clearing his throat; this was done usually in conjunction with a quick one liner he was getting ready to spit out. “Funny you mention that Earl because that is exactly where I came from, in fact it was your mom’s stretched out rectal tubing. Schloop! I fell right out!” Whitney sang out the last line of his witty remarks, turned to me and quickly blurted “No offense, Art.” “None taken,” I replied. Whitney then quickly added, “Which in some fucked up way would make me your brother Earl so come, hug me now.” Whitney stretched out his arms and went straight for Earl. Earl let out a feminine like shriek and jumped up as if some sort of venomous snake had found its way into his lap.
“Get the fuck away from me you sick bastard!!!” Earl yelled in a panicked manner pressed up against the nearest wall like it was a tall building ledge. He looked as if he was watching a vile murder take place right in front of him. “I might get Hepatitis just by looking at you!” Earl cried. His next question staggered out of his mouth, “Wh, Wh, Why are you dressed like that, why haven’t you showered I mean…(long pause) what the fuck Whitney?!”
To me this was everyday life, a reality show waiting to happen, “My roommate Whitney.” It had taken Whitney about two months to pull off this look and that was about 6 months ago. It was all a part of his plan.
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