He rented the room next to mine ..
There were just the two of us sharing the small kitchen and the bathroom.

His room was furnished with a mattress and nothing else. He lived on a diet of hard boiled eggs and nothing else.

He was vague and his handshake was like squeezing a jellyfish.

I quickly decided to avoid him. This was easy since he spent most of his time in his room behind a closed door. Shunning humanity. Eating eggs. Fwapping with the jellyfish. Whatever.

After three months he was kicked out. This was a day of joy and glory.

Only twice did we have anything resembling a conversation. The first time was when I first met mr. jellyfish handshake. The second time was one day when he looked into my room, and upon spotting my CD collection asked me when I would go on holiday.

I think he may have been some kind of former drug addict trying to edge his way back into society. Or maybe he was shooting smack on the other side of the wall. Dunno. Hated his guts.
(spinoza, Mon 2 Mar 2009, 20:02, Reply)