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Aesop was incredibly into his hot as smokestacks roommate, Eli Clark. It was hard not to be. The man dressed almost entirely head to foot in bathrobes most of the time. With that amount of mystery, it always left Aesop hungering for more. Once in the kitchen at 12am, he caught a glimpse of the man’s ankle, and hadn’t been quite the same since.
Thus, he had a lot invested in his current lifestyle. He had grown a sort of attachment to this apartment, despite the fact that four people lived there, and that was about three too many living bodies to be around. But such is the fate of being a poor undergraduate student. Perhaps one day he could be a poor graduate student and upgrade to just having an apartment with Eli Clark and nobody else. That would be.... tolerable.
But if he wanted to continue cherishing his eye candy here, then he was going to have to defend his home from the threat of hostile intruders. They were here to pillage all that Aesop Carl held near and dear to him: this kitchen that he shared with Eli Clark, and the pudding cups he kept in the pantry.
The bug on the kitchen wall hadn’t moved in awhile, but Aesop Carl was no fool to dead things, and he knew when he was getting punk’d. Lying opposum ass bitch. He’d show it who’s boss. He wasn’t gonna let this pussy ass bitch boy get past him and spread its disgusting little germs all over their kitchen.
God, he hated roaches. Hated them more than the jaywalkers that interrupt his morning commute to McDonald’s. They were so filthy and disgusting, they’d put the college men’s room to shame. Bitches were stinky as fuck. Other bugs were unpleasant, sure, but there was something so specifically evil about this specific type of bug. Even spiders had a purpose to their existence, an obligatory honor as a hunter of other undesirable bugs. But roaches?
The only thing they existed for was to make mankind suffer. Aesop loathed the fact that millennia of natural selection and sophisticated evolution had raised roaches to the degree that they were. They would survive mankind’s nuclear wars. They had been here long before humans were, and would be around long after their species inevitably died out from its own stupidity.
God, he really, really fucking hated roaches.
“Well? Are you gonna fuckin’ kill it or not??”
The voice felt like a cheese grater raking itself over his brain. Ah, yes. His least favorite roommate, even after the short guy whose only remarkable personality trait was stealing Aesop’s pudding cups from the fridge.
Norton Campbell had a pot on his head, and he was not coming anywhere near that kitchen wall. He stood in the doorway, observing from a safe distance as Aesop struggled with the task of manning an aerosol can with his oven mittens.
“Shut up,” Aesop said. “If you’re not going to help, then you don’t get to criticize my process.”
“Is that can of hair spray mine??”
“Yes.” Aesop had collected it for chemical warfare purposes. The only other thing they had was a gallon of bleach, and unfortunately he didn’t think he could splash it that high. The bug had almost made it to the ceiling.
“What the hell?” Norton’s nose wrinkled like he had just taken a bite of moldy cheese. “That’s my property.”
“Do you want to eliminate the threat from our home or not?”
Norton’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. But since I contributed, I get to complain as much as I want.”
<they fuck.... up. they fuck up big time>
[the kitchen is in shambles and norton revealed his half white boy side when he punched a hole through the drywall. aesop carl makes the unfortunate discovery that hair spray will not kill roaches, they cannot be stopped by any mortal method. only blood will satisfy their rampage. A life for a life.]
“I’m calling in backup,” Norton said, his hands shaking as he pulled out his phone. He hit the dictation button to send a text. Clearly they needed a professional, and though Aesop Carl’s ass may have been both luscious and plump, the dude fucking sucked at killing bugs.
Then, the unimaginable worst horror happened.
The bug flew.
[aesop and norton both shat their pants so hard they passed out unconscious in the kitchen. eli’s gonna walk in later and be like damn bitch what happened at mcdonalds]
-----
Naib looked at his phone, brow furrowing as he attempted to decipher the cryptic message that Norton had sent him.
“Hey soup eater can you come home we need to fuck. Fuck oh god oh fucking mierda mierda Carl burn it I can’t live here fuck shut up camp bell. Everything dies eventually.”
He figured that “soup eater” probably meant Subedar, from previous conversations where Norton insisted on using his voice-to-text program instead of his hands like a normal person. Lazy son of a bitch. He didn’t even bother putting “Subedar” in his keyboard’s dictionary or trying to fix it.
But the rest of the text sounded like maybe Norton was on drugs.
His next reaction was to wonder if this was an elaborate attempt at a booty call. Typically Norton kept his summons direct and blunt, and “Hey Subedar we need to fuck” sounded pretty typical. The swearing wasn’t that uncommon, though he discerned that “Carl” most likely referred to one of their roommates, a quiet guy who graciously kept the kitchen supplied with pudding cups. Maybe Norton was with him, and they were having some kind of heated conversation that his phone picked up? What would that have to do with a booty call?
In conclusion.... Naib had no fucking idea.
“Everything dies eventually???” Naib mumbled to himself as he squinted back to the text. He took a deep breath and summoned every brain cell he possessed, furrowing his brow in concentration. The wheels turned in his head. He called upon his powers of inference, and finally, he realized what must be happening:
[..... norton was banging aesop. God fucking damn it aesop carl is nothing sacred in their shitty little college apartment. can you please save some ass for naib subedar. god damn mr steal yo guy. he’s sick of it he’s had enough]
-----
Naib didn’t have many expectations of Norton because Norton was kind of a shithead, but when he walked into the kitchen of their apartment, his impression reached an all time low.
“What the fuck is going on in here?”
[more shit happens i guess and they continue to fuck up. they smash their toaster. it isn’t the first casualty and it won’t be the last. aesop is not crying but he wants to be. norton is crying and he wishes he wasnt. naib wants to break his lease bc he cant stand these bitches]
They all turn their heads mid-argument to see the most angelic sight of the day: Eli Clark standing in the doorway, wearing yet another fucking bathrobe. The fluorescent light of the kitchen ceiling shone down upon him, illuminating him as if he had been sent down from heaven itself, or maybe just from the maintenance office upstairs.
“Is everything okay? I heard some sounds and grew concerned...”
[aesop is in love with him and the fact that he heard sounds and grew concerned. god, what an icon, what a fucking irresistable man of power. soo sexy haha
poppo flies off eli’s shoulder and sees the little bitch. no, not naib. the other little bitch. the fucking bug that caused so much pain and devastation and property damage. she’s tired of its shit so she snaps it up in her beak as a tasty snack. thus the plague upon this dumbass apartment full of horny college dudes has ended, they may resume banging as normal]