After I loaded up my bedroom while trying to dodge the roommates’ housewarming party, I next had to venture out into the party itself, into the kitchen area to gather up the $140.00 worth of groceries that I’d purchased the prior weekend. I wasn’t fucking around when I’d moved in – I was truly ready to be settled, and I wasn’t about to leave without my food!
I dodged a kitchen full of people who were in various stages of food prep. I grabbed paper bags and began chucking pantry items in . . . really important things . . . like yerba mate, pasta . . . two open containers of whiskey . . . I did leave the moldy bread behind . . . Then I went for the fridge, handing out beers to their guests as I threw my frozen broccoli, aloe vera juice and other cold items into another sack. Dammit, they ate some of my ice cream!
Ahh, I was really running now, literally, trying to get out the front door with two heavy sacks when – blammo! – one sack ripped and pesto and eggs hit the floor right by the front door.
“Oh mother-fucker!” I screamed. No one seemed to notice the dramatic outburst, so I figured no one would notice when I went and got one of the big slobbery dogs to come and lick the cracked egg and pesto splatters up off the floor. No one did. And then, with no further ado, I grabbed Frank, put my key on the bedroom table and walked out the back door, never to be seen again.