My roommate is the most annoying person I have ever met. He keeps a pet frog in a ten gallon fish tank full of rocks and muddy water that he got from a puddle after a rain storm. I hate that fucking thing it makes the entire apartment smell like a pond and wakes me up in the middle of the night croaking because my roommate forgets to feed him before he goes to his parents’ place for the weekend. He will come home on Sunday night and talk down to me like I’m a child because I didn’t feed Sir Jumps-a-lot. That’s what he calls that piece of shit. Sir Jumps-a-lot. Then he’ll fucking butt into my conversation with my girlfriend later that night in the living room trying to get her to pay attention to him by telling her I cheated with her best friend. I’ll storm out of the room because she’ll actually believe the garbage spewing out of that sewage infested cavern between his lips and then he’ll come up to me the next morning apologizing, trying to blame it on his alcoholism and depression. I throw that back in his face saying he only makes those problems up to get attention and he’ll start crying like a little bitch. He’ll end up lunging towards me – arms at my throat. Somehow I’ll manage to break free, reach into the fish tank and grab that irritating amphibian. Next thing I’ll know is me punting Sir Jumps-a-lot out our eighth story window. The following day I’ll feel bad as my roommate will avoid being in the same room as me and I won’t have the guts to make him sign the termination papers for the lease on our apartment.