I live alone now.
Well, there's a tarantula. But she doesn't count as people. I've checked.

My first housemate was Tom Amazing. No, not his God or parent-given name, but the one we gifted him. For Tom was the most amazing person ever, if you believed him.

You see, Tom had wonderful stories. Tom was 25. Tom used to be very high up at IBM. Tom spent two years in Cyprus running a salsa bar. Tom was a superstar DJ who gave it all up. Tom was in the IRA (he was English, by the way). Tom once had a Ferrari that he got caught doing 180mph in - but the police let him off because his driving was so good.

Not all of Tom's stories were so ridiculous. His pride of joy was his PC. He claimed he'd 'written some code' to allow him to run two motherboards at once. It was the best PC in the world. It had a glass case. It only had one motherboard. His response when questioned? 'I'm not going to argue with you.'

Uhmmm?

Tom used to go clubbing, get wrecked and bring scary, sketchy people back with him. Like the 50 year old pair of women who appeared to be made of stone. Me and my friend locked ourselves in my bedroom and waited for them to go away.

When we moved in, we paid 50/50 on a fridge freezer, washing machine and dishwasher. When I moved out, he wanted me to buy them off him. Fine, says I. He wanted more than we'd originally paid for them because 'my mum got us a discount on them.' Cunt.

He also never, ever washed clothes. There was a layer of yeast-ridden socks and skiddy pants that climbed up the walls. His room smelt like the end of all things.

We christened him Tom Amazing. It was ironic. He heard it. He thought it was a complimentary nickname. He then assumed it for himself. You have never cringed like you cringe when your tubby, beardy David Brent of a housemate introduces himself to your unimpressed female friends as 'Tom Amazing, baby!'

Still, he was a nice enough guy. He once welcomed me home from work with a line of ketamine. There are worse things to open a door to.

After him was the stripper. I came home to find a pole installed in my living room.

'How dare you? Did you even think about my deposit? What the hell were you thinking?'

'I'll give lessons.'

'No, that's....oooh, ok!'

Two flatmates. One bad, one good. Not great odds. I live alone now. The tarantula doesn't bring scary people back or build stuff. Except out of web.
(Miraclefish How appropriate, you fight like a cow, Fri 27 Feb 2009, 11:20, 1 reply)

This little ditty reminds of Fight Club
I bet you're Tom, and you haven't even realised yet Miraclefish..

If that is your real name!
(i should have joined myspace, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 0:09, closed)