Sit back, relax and listen to (read) a tale of one my misadventures at university - I know it's long, but it's good... (if you can't be arsed, skip down to the bold to skip the back story)
In my first year I lived with a psychopath. Lets calm him 'Dick.' Here are a few of the things he did.
- Worked at GAME rather than actually go to uni.
- Got into drunk rages.
- On the first day we met he called my GF a "SOUTHERN, NORTHERN HATING, BASTARD!" because she was from Nottingham.
- He bought a £200 home gym because he "couldn't be arsed" to walk to the gym, which I had to carry up 6 flights of stairs and he never used.
- He Secretly obsessed about this one girl, and when we were out (which was rare) he would buy her drinks but not tell her (or indeed talk to her) and just place them near her. Where they sat undrank till we got up to leave and wondered why they were there.
- He would wake us up at 7am at the weekend to the black fucking beauty sound track. With huge amounts of bass and distortion. Or The Best of Disney. And no this wasn't in a ironic student way. This was in a "I'm very creepy way" it's another, far more serious, story for another day but, a few years after we lived together I found out he had been arrested for paedophilia but the charges dropped.
- He was racist, a sexist, and a homophobe. The last being a different story.
Basically I righteously hated him.I basically lived in the next door flat and just went back to my flat to sleep. One time I walked into my flat so drunk I could barely stand. I slumped into a seat at the kitchen table. My nemesis was home. Also drunk out of his tiny mind. He decided to cook some liver or chicken or something, I could really tell. He got it out the fridge, and put it in the microwave.
For ten seconds.I watched. Staring at his curmudgeonly little face. He was out of it. For him hours could have passed. It pinged. He woke slightly and went to get his "dinner."
It was raw, a nice pool of blood having gathered on the plate.
'Why are you microwaving meat?' I thought 'he'll put it back'
But no, he sat down to eat it with a knife and fork, swaying, eyes unfocused. I was drunk but drunk enough to know I couldn't let him eat that. Whatever it was. It would give him food poisoning.
But I said
nothing.
He started to cut it. It was completely raw on the inside. Juices oozed out.
This was it I realised. This was the moment. Am I bastard? Will I let him make himself ill, or even kill himself, just because I hate him so much. This is a defining point in my life. What kind of person am I? "Will I let him do this?" I asked myself.
He raised the fork to his lips.
And just as I had to decide what kind of person I was, before I could redeem myself and save him, his (only) friend in the house burst out of his room and bellowed at him to stop.
So I'll never know if I would have let him eat the raw meat. I'll never know...