The girl you didn't want to move in.
It was December a few years back, and we'd had a couple of dud housemates that had to be booted out, and now we need someone else quicksmart, or the rent wouldn't get paid.

A girl arrives, dressed like she was in college, and announced she had a german sheperd, but he wasn't any trouble. Fine, we were desperate, being just before Christmas and all. She moved in, the dog stayed out the back, and things were fine for a couple of days.

I met her boyfriend and we went out for a drink, just the two of us. He turned out to be great fun, and we got completely rat-arsed, both ending up with a couple of slappers, neither of which was my new housemate. The next three days in a row we did more or less the same thing, and I'd return home, where the girl was none the wiser.

Prepare yourself, this is nasty.

I stumbled home one morning, and walked through the house to find the new housemate on the floor of the kitchen in a pool of blood and fluid, and she was in hysterics and a lot of pain. I picked her up and put her in a taxi and took her to hospital while she explained she'd recently had an abortion from an accident with this guy, and she knew something had gone wrong. At the hospital they took her in and loaded her up with antibiotics.

With nothing else to do to help, I returned home, to find the dog had gotten in and licked up the puddle in the kitchen.
(Dubiously Fragrant Mormon, Fri 6 Apr 2007, 22:40, Reply)