One of the members of our student house wasn't a student at all.
She was a night-shift worker at a packing factory.

As a consequence, she tended to be leaving for work just as we were going out to the pub, and sometimes would wake the sluggerbeds among us (surprisingly few) in the morning with the smell of her cooking chili or whatever for her tea.

One day, everyone had left the house for lectures except me, and I was pottering about in the kitchen doing something or other, when I heard her key in the door.

"Hellooo!" she called as she came in, to see if anyone was about.

With all the good intentions of the hilarious jester I am, I kept quiet, and hid behind the door, listening as she slung her coat and bag on the hooks, and came down the corridor to the kitchen.

It was quite a long corridor, the house was completely silent, and her footsteps echoed throughout from the bare wooden floor.

In she came, up to the sink, filled the kettle and "RAAAAARRRRR!" I jumped out at her for my lovely joke!

She flew about two feet into the air screaming at the top of her voice, and ran up the stairs to her room, where she sat weeping and shuddering with fear, as I ran after her apologising profusely oh dear god apologising apologising apologising.

Bitch. Crying is NOT winning.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 10:57, 4 replies)

Nope. Vag.
She won.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Mon 20 Feb 2012, 12:00, closed)

*slugabed

( MatJ LOOK, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 18:35, closed)

Whichever way you spell it,
it's still not a word.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 19:17, closed)

I'm sure that should have started
with "Dear Penthouse. I have to tell you about an amazing thing that happened to me last week."

The ending was wrong, too.
(ubergeekian, Tue 21 Feb 2012, 11:13, closed)