Reading Saqqara's journal

My roomate has a penchant for buying shit that’s too expensive, too big, and gaudy. It’s a wonder he doesn’t own an Escalade. Last year, he bought a dining room suite from one of those rent to own places that charges you out the ass. It’s a simple wrought iron table with a glass top. You read right, glass. You probably already know what happened.

We worked yesterday from nine to nine. Twelve fucking hours and three fucking parties of around 200 people a piece. We were worn out. Around 5:30 though, my roomate’s mother calls him. We live in a duplex, so she’s in the next apartment. She tells him she heard a loud crash and went over to see what happened. Apparently, one of the cats ended up shattering this glass table of his. The glass table of his that is so big, you can’t even open the kitchen door all the way.

Anyway, he hangs up and looks at me. "Those fucking cats are gone." For a moment, I’m not really comprehending what he said, because I didn’t hear the whole conversation, only his end. "What happened?", I say. "One of those cats busted the glass on my table. My fucking $1100 table!" Right at that moment, I’m resisting the urge to scream at him. I know which cat has done it. His fucking cat. She’s been jumping from that table on top of the refridgerator to lay on the microwave up there. (Yes, the microwave is on top of the fridge, the kitchen isn’t that big and there’s no counter space.) For the record, I hate his fucking cat.

I watch him mixing the remnants of a fruit tray into fruit salad for tomorrow’s buffet. "You know your cat probably did it don’t you? She’s been jumping off the fridge onto the table for about two weeks now. She did it when we came home yesterday." He looks up at me. "I don’t give a fuck! They are both gone, I’m sick of them costing me money! Unless you want to pay for half of replacing the glass, your cat is gone too!"

Hold the fucking train. They are costing him money? I shell out the money for food, cat litter, and whatever else they get. He hasn’t bought a bag of food since I first moved in. Now, when one of them breaks the table, probably his, he wants to get rid of BOTH of them. Now, I’m not going to try and delude myself here. I know it’s a possibility that my cat could have broken the table. But whose cat has been seen jumping onto the table? Now, because one of them broke his ugly ass table, both have to go? Fuck that.

I wait until after work to go ballistic on his ass. It’s been building up for about four hours now. He starts in as soon as we get in the car. "So are you going to pay for half the table?" I go completely nuts. "YOU’RE FUCKING CAT IS THE ONE WE’VE SEEN JUMPING ON THE FUCKING TABLE FROM THE FRIDGE. SURE, IT’S POSSIBLE MY CAT COULD HAVE DONE IT, BUT YOU DON’T FUCKING KNOW. WHY SHOULD I PAY FOR HALF OF SOMETHING MY CAT PROBABLY DIDN’T FUCKING BREAK??" He screams back about my cat clawing his furniture. Which, given, yes, he did, before I got him declawed. He hasn’t even had the decency to get his cat spayed. She’s a female and has already had one batch of kittens.

I didn’t make it home. We had to stop at my mother’s to pick up a TV she was giving to us. He’s railing at me in the car about my cat and I’m already mad as a motherfucker. I look over at him, "If you’re wise, you’d shut up right about now." He cocks his head and says, "Oh yeah? Why?" I throw my coke in his face. "That’s why", I say, and get out of the car. He’s pissed and drives off. I stay the night at my mother’s.

This morning, I got home and looked at the table. Sure enough, it’s broken on the side that’s closet to the fridge. Broken in half, then into smaller pieces when it hit the floor. Sadly, I’ll probably end up paying for half of the glass because I can’t prove my cat didn’t have a hand in it, but if his cat were to come to an untimely end, I don’t think I’d be too sad about it.

"It is much more comfortable to be mad and know it, than to be sane and have one's doubts."

Anyway, he hangs up and looks at me. "Those fucking cats are gone." For a moment, I’m not really comprehending what he said, because I didn’t hear the whole conversation, only his end. "What happened?", I say. "One of those cats busted the glass on my table. My fucking $1100 table!" Right at that moment, I’m resisting the urge to scream at him.Anyway, he hangs up and looks at me. "Those fucking cats are gone." For a moment, I’m not really comprehending what he said, because I didn’t hear the whole conversation, only his end. "What happened?", I say. "One of those cats busted the glass on my table. My fucking $1100 table!" Right at that moment, I’m resisting the urge to scream at him.

So where has this asshole of roommate 'deposited' the cats? If it was my cat - or if I was you - I'd beat the shit out of him the moment he told me this. But probably somebody else, maybe his parents, already did that to him when he was a child. Beat him too much on the back of his head, so the brain already decompisited - or maybe they just did bath him too hot.

Anyway, in your case I'd DEPOSIT your roommate. What a huge, goddamn, unwhorthy, egoistic piece of toxic waste!

cu, w0lf.

Fuck off the 30 seconds posting limit!

Jesus. This could be forshadowing future events for me. My roomate and I also have a giant ass glass table. We also have cats, and they both like to lay on that damn table. However, I don't think I'll have quite the screaming arguement that you and your roomate are having over it once breaking happens. Good luck with the cat problem, and maybe you can fit the table with a smaller piece of glass so it takes up a lot less room.

--Jami Yeah, that's gonna sting in the morning.