The bookcase is still on the floor and I've been using it as a table which, to be honest, is better than as a bookcase because now the book spines aren't complaining to me that I'm not reading them. The only problem is that I'm sure that when I lift it up eventually when I've tripped over it too many times (I'm up to 32 toe-stubbings, 12 shin bangings, and 5 full-on full-tilt trippings that send me tumbling face first onto the floor) that all my books are going to be gone like some dumbass magic trick and replaced with giant spiders... abracadabra, you're minus a bunch of books!
So I was eating a bowl of cajun rice on my bookcase and staring at the blank fucking wall where I had once put a TV but then threw it over into the corner when my reception went out during a showing of Star Trek II: the Wrath of Kahn when that same dainty knock comes to my door. I could tell it was the LADY whose name I've already forgotten, but I know she's got my god damned drawing. Well this was a little inconvenient because I've got a boner the size of the rock of gibraltar right now and I don't want to stand up and, oh yeah, I'm not really wearing anything and don't really know where I put my clothes last. But the knock came again (for fuck's sake go away you stupid bitch) and I realized that I was being rude so I grabbed a shower curtain that I'd been using for a couch and threw it over myself in a robe-like fashion and walked up to the door, my penis waggling in front of me in the most embarrassing and ridiculously stupid display of why men are guarenteed to be stupider than women (on account of the fact that they just LOOK dumb with a large erection waggling in front of them).
I cracked the door open with a grimace. I wanted to shout "what the fuck do you want?" when I saw that she was crying. I didn't know what the HELL that was about so I just stood there staring at her dumbly waiting for her to tell me why the hell she was knocking on my door. We stood, staring at one another for a little bit and I contemplated getting the FUCK out of this apartment building because I have had so much god damned traffic here that really interferes with my work and causes bookcases to fall on me.
FINALLY the dumb fuck opened her mouth and said "I did something terrible."
Oh for fuck's sake!
"Okay," I said. "I don't doubt it."
She looked at me like a dog who's just been smacked by a newspaper and then just started sobbing. I kept her outside and my head peeking out the tiniest crack. Finally I couldn't help it anymore (WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?) and said to her, "What? What did you do?"
"Can I come in?" she asked.
"No," I said. "No you can't." She'd already stolen something of mine and I didn't want her making off with any of my work which was at this time evenly distributed across the apartment as if it was a liquid that couldn't help but distribute its mass evenly.
"Fine," she said, and then RIGHT THERE IN THE FUCKING HALL she sat down and pouted, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. I stared in disbelief at this display. WHO THE FUCK WAS THIS GIRL? She knocks on my door, expects me to just invite her in and then SITS ON THE FUCKING FLOOR and starts CRYING LOUDLY in front of my apartment.
"Grow up you big baby," I said to her and slammed the door shut. Then I started punching the air around me in case it held any of the air she'd breathed out. I didn't want to catch her stupidness (which is, I suppose, a disguise of the word COOTIES) and start crying myself. Do I care what the fuck she did? I KNOW what the awful thing she did was. She STOLE MY DRAWING and now she's stiting out there, fucking recalcitrant and SCARED and I'm supposed to open the fucking door and comfort the shit out of her? WHAT THE FUCK?
I began screaming out loud because I am SO SICK OF THESE FUCKING VISITORS and I AM SO SICK of feeling like I have to DO anything with them or for them. THEY ARE COMING TO ME! I must have been screaming for a long time when the BITCH opened the door herself (fuck my non-locking mentality) and said "YOU GROW UP!" which, I think, was a come-back she'd been thinking up this whole time. Then she sat down in my living room and began crying again. I noticed that the shower curtain was on the floor and I was naked but she didn't care. I stared at her and wished she was dead, wished she would leave, wished that telepathic spiders would devour her eyes and then crawl inside of her to destroy her.
But she's still there right now. Still crying as I type this! I don't know what the fuck I am supposed to do with this shit! The only thing I can think is to read her my erotica and hope it'll put her to sleep.