The Tale of the Giggler

Credit: http://melaniemoyer.info/writing/?p=4557

Hello boys and girls,
I’ve got a belated Halloween tale for you all. It is called the Tale of the Giggler.
There once was a house quite conveniently placed. So much so that to get in there was a great race. When our heroine got in against incredibly odds, she thought she had gained the favour of the gods. But little did she know that in time she would find that what she first thought was gold was actually a poisonous vine.
Many battles she would soon face in this House of Never Ending Horrors for the monsters she lived with much fouler. The one saving grace was that of the monsters five, one of them was rarely home, content to spend her time with some other guy. She would soon discover, however, that her appearances however brief would cause her must strife, sleep, and grief. It wasn’t so much the monster herself, but her friend so known as The Giggler from here till the end. The monster would bring her wherever she went and her giggles would trill right above our heroine’s head.
For hours and hours, the game would go on until the monster and her friend decided it was time to move on. Then they’d sweep off into the night making not a sound and leaving our heroine much happier that they were not around.
Happy Halloween 🙂

More Stories From The House Of Horrors

I have the unfortunate luck of having to share a bathroom with Fannie, who I secretly call Fatass in my head every time she speaks. She is by far the most disrespectful and disgusting member of the household. She has long black hair which she sheds constantly and never cleans up. It is all over the floor, the counter, and the shower we share. Twice now I’ve gotten out of the shower and picked her hair off of my body. How do I know it’s not my hair you may ask? Because dear readers my hair is blonde, naturally blonde. Nothing makes a person want to vomit like picking another person’s unclean hair off their body.

The weirdness continued when I went into the kitchen to make lunch. The kitchen was dark, damp, and disgusting as usual. There were cheerios, crumbs, pieces of hair, dried flower petals, and dirty dishes scattered on every work surface. I got out some instant Asian noodles and decided to prepare my food on slightly more cleanly looking bar stool I found. I take the package of noodles and a bowl out of my cupboard. Realizing, I will need a fork I walk over to my utensil drawer to get one. I reach into grab one and accidentally brush something small and cold with my hand. I turn up the lights so as to see better and discover that the small cold thing is a black tub of M.A.C. lipstick – Satin Red AC8 to be exact. Bright Red and sculpted like a child’s crayon it lays there. Proof of what I already know.

My roommates are the biggest bunch of hypocrites the world has ever seen. They scream at me for moving their disgusting dishes so that I can clean mine, yell at me for moving their smelly misplaced shoes from the entranceway to the hall closet, and holler at me for moving their straightening irons out of the way so I can use the counter, and then use my utensils and leave their tacky lipstick behind. Like the evidence of some illustrious affair the lipstick as confirmed all of my suspicions and created even more doubts.

Roommates From Hell

I live with roommates from Hell. Okay, I know they’re not the worst roommates EVER or even the worst roommates possible, but they’re still up there. They are filthy, obnoxious, disgusting, vile, self-consumed, bullying, weirdos.
There are four of them. They house is always a mess. I don’t think any of them have ever held a broom in their lives. They never clean up after themselves. They leave their nasty food covered dishes all over the counters, the sink, the table, you name it. And I’m the psycho for wanting the clean house?

It got so bad I started putting their dishes in an old bin I found just to use the sink. As the weeks wore on and their dishes stayed on the counter collecting mould, I started putting them in the bin too. Instead of cleaning their already dirty dishes and taking them out of the bin, they decided to do the mature, adult thing and use other dishes instead. The smell got so bad that I put the bin of dirty dishes out on the deck. The deck by the way is attached to the kitchen via a sliding glass door through which dish bins can clearly be seen. This will become important later.

A few weeks back we had a house meeting because the landlady came by and saw how bad the house was and left a note telling them to clean up their stuff. The meeting started off well enough. My one roommate, who I’ll call Nellie, proposed that we create a dishwasher unloading schedule. Yes my roommates are so incapable of unloading a dishwasher that they need a schedule to tell them when to do so. A schedule, I might add, they have since stopped following. Couldn’t even keep it going a full week. I was not included in this schedule because I wash my dishes by hand in order to avoid the dishwasher drama. Wow I never thought I would say those words.
Next my roommate, whom I will call Emily, turns and fixes me with an ice cold stare. “I think it’s really disrespectful that you moved our dishes” she tells me. All I can do is stare at her in disbelief. A moment of silence passes and I snap out of my revere. I want to scream at her, but instead I tell her in a would-be calm voice that, “I think it’s really disrespectful that all of you leave your nasty disgusting dishes all over the house!” To which they, all four of them, respond to by yelling at me. That’s right, when confronted with an opinion that wasn’t their own they responded with the mature response of incoherent screaming.

The scream-a-thon lasted a whole hour during which I was informed of just how wrong my habit of being clean really is. I was called a psychopathic, insane, and crazy for wanting the house clean. I was told by another one of my roommates, whom I’ll call Fannie, that I, “need to get used to other people’s living habits” and that I’m, “insane for wanting the house to be spotless”. I responded that I’m not asking for the house to be spotless, just for it to be clean. They responded with more yelling. The situation has not improved.