This is an old poem from long before I got serious about it. It aimed more humor than any type of form. A true story from college too. Though the last line doesn’t really hold true.
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Stuck in class
Breakfast now long dead
I feel my stomach twist
Forcing me to stumble
As I traverse the snowy quads
I know I have to make it
Back to my simple room
Where salvation waits
Inside a holy carton
The last ration of my week
Until I make it to the store
I can almost taste it
The chocolate frothy drink
Giving me the strength
To live until the lunch bell
Imagine my despair
When the holy carton is no more
I find it drained
And crushed inside the trash
With the criminal still near
Licking his lips
As he reads a gamer mag
The faint smell of chocolate
Hovering on his breath
That I smell across the room
My rage tries to rise
To overcome my stomach
That saps me with every gurgle
A mild debate ensues
And the war begins
Continuing to this very day
Legends of Windemere 
Ha ha! I totally had a roommate like this freshman year! Rage is right! We went our separate ways winter quarter.
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We’re still good friends, but this is one of the more comical events of our semester as roomies. Right up there with him accidentally turning my computer on at 4 am. My opening theme was ‘Princes of the Universe’ and he turned the speaker volume the wrong way.
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Arrgggghhh!
Did he play D&D too?
I’m still friends with the roommate who replaced the food stealing roommate. 🙂
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He tried Vampire: The Masquerade once. The chocolate milk was only bad timing since we shared food all the time. If it was any other morning then it wouldn’t have been a big deal.
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My roommate and I were supposed to share the expense of buying food. But I was the one buying the food while she and her sister ate it.
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A sister too? That’s never good.
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This is had me laughing Charles, I can almost see you standing there seething over the loss of your last gulp of chocolate milk. Very funny. 🙂
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Thanks. It’s a fond memory. Think I was stunned first and then the hunger-fueled rant.
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I’m glad this is a fond memory. Roommates can morph into monsters so easily. But chocolate milk? There I’d have to draw the line.
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Been lucky that I never had a real monster roommate. Closest was when I moved mid-year and the former occupant was still in there. Lived in the mess for a week and still have no idea how a pizza box got stuck to the ceiling.
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I lived this poem in my undergraduate days.
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Those were dark times.
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Hey! You take my last package of Raman noodles?
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Never got a taste for Raman. More a saltines and peanut butter guy.
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How about saltines and restaurant packets of condiments?
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Do those come in PB flavor?
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🙂
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excellent
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Thanks. 🙂
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It’s good when you can look back and laugh, even if the story still niggles. Thanks for sharing the memory with us in such a fun way 😀
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Happy to create a smile.
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