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The Horrors of Beat It
However, many others I have related the story to have found a mixture of pity, disgust, and most often, amusement towards this tale.
The morning started off well enough. My morning class had been cancelled, so I took the chance to sleep in. My roommate had class earlier than I did on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I was left to my own glorious sleep until approxim
ately 11 a.m.
I awoke to an odd sound. I peeked an eye open as to locate the source of this peculiarity. I glanced over at my roommates bed, a mere 3 to 5 feet from my own. I see a white tube sock writhing back and forth and the covers shaking very quickly. I am confused, in my sleepy stupor, as to why my roommate is shaking the way he is. It seems an odd way to sleep. However, it is readily apparent as to what created the sound that shook me from my slumber. The sound was a mixture of haunting man-gasps and the sound of my roomate flogging the dolphin ONLY 3 FEET AWAY FROM ME!
Needless to say, I was horrified. It is with shame that I admit that I chose the "flight" response in the classic "fight or flight" scenario. I closed my eyes and pretended I was anywhere than I was. Besides, you don't want to interrupt a masturbator. God knows what would have happened. I could have been shot with his flesh rocket, or he may have just broken down and cried while cradling his junk. It's either/or, with no in-between, and realizing my predicament, I took a mind-vacation while my roommate finished his sickening deed.
As I lay sprawled across my bed in helpless terror, terrible thoughts crossed my mind. What was he thinking of? Could I be his preferred fantasy of choice? Is he staring at me while he polishes his knob? Has this happened before? If it has, how many times? Is this a Tuesday ritual?
However, the agonizing situation was coming to a resolve. With a sickening groan that could induce vomit in even the strongest of stomaches, my roommate finished his business. The slow rip of paper towels to clean the spill and deafening snap of tighty-whitey band across my roommate's waist are sounds that can't be unheard. These sounds induce in me the equivalent of what a shell-shocked veteran experiences when hearing the bang of fireworks, or any other similar explosion.
So anyways, my roommate goes to take out his trash and I quickly darted to the bathroom to take my shower so I could escape the self-sex dungeon that my room had become. Upon returning back to my room, I dressed at top speed without so much as eye contact with my roommate and booked it to lunch.
There, I proceeded to relate the story to my friends, who also lived on my floor and knew the perpetrator of this heinous crime. They found much more humor in the situation than I did, and had a wonderful time at the expense of my dignity.
However, the passing along of this information did lead itself to several hilarious moments in the following weeks. My favorite was the time the guys who lived across the hall put Michael Jackson's "Beat It" on a continuous loop for approximately four hours, while they ran some errands and my roommate was hard at work studying. For the life of him, he could not figure out why they had the song on repeat, as he never knew that I had told anyone and everyone who would listen about the incident. I also never acknowledged to him that I was forced to bear witness to the only pleasure that this guy will ever receive.
As I sit here at my desk, nearly 7 months later, I hope that my story can be an inspiration and a help for others. If you are reading this, and something similar has happened to you, come forward and share your pain with the world. Life once again becomes enjoyable after a period of intense depression and pessimism in the state of humanity.
Moral: DON'T BEAT IT WHEN YOUR ROOMMATE IS IN THE ROOM!
Maybe your roommate should crash with Haus.