The Refrigerator Roommate Story
My first year living in the dorms at college I had a very special kind of roommate. I didn’t particularly dislike him, he was just kind of dumb and well, something was not all right with the guy. It was probably because he lacked a sense of humor that I felt the need to try to bring humor to him against his will, but I’m not sure.I’d say it was maybe the 4th week of my first semester, my friend and I carried a small brown refrigerator into my room. He already had obtained a better newer one, so he said I could use the older one for the year.
As we’re carrying it in, my newly assigned roommate inquires “Hey man, where’d you get that refrigerator from?” (Most of his sentences started with “Hey man”, or ended with “man” whether or not you were a man or a woman or something else entirely. Living with him was like walking through the entrance of “Guitar Center” over and over and over again. Hey man, Hey man, Hey man, Hey man, He-man? Hymen? Haband? Ham and? Shoot me.)
So naturally I told him that we stole it. Just kind of half joking, you know, that sort of thing. He paused for a few seconds, and then asked us where we stole it from. He *totally* believed me.
“We got it from the fifth floor.”, I said. My friend’s eyes lit up, and he began to play along with all sorts of details to the false theft. It all went over pretty convincingly. We installed the refrigerator in the rightful place and I figured that would be the end of it. It wasn’t.
That Night:
“Hey, are you awake man?” said the roommate in pitch darkness.”Uhh yeah” said I in pitch darkness.
“So did you really steal that refrigerator?”
“Yeah, people shouldn’t just leave their doors wide open”
“Dude that’s totally fucked up”
“Dog eat dog, man” said I (trying to relate to him in language he could understand)
“If you stole my refrigerator, I’d kick your ass”
On that note, I went to sleep. Over the next week or two he began really freaking out about the fact that our dorm room was housing some sort of stolen goods, but it was pretty clear he really didn’t know what to do about it. My friend and I basically told the entire floor of our elaborate hoax and they were all in on it. Sometimes in the lounge if they heard him coming they would start talking about how some huge guy came down to the floor looking to find the asshole who stole his fridge. He had heard “it was somebody in the building” and he was none too happy. Good Times.He started becoming more and more agitated as the days passed. He would shut our door to make sure that nobody would see inside our room, and then I would open it when he wasn’t paying attention.
“So… What happens if they find out that it was you that took it?”
“They won’t”
“What if they come here and they see it? What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know”
“If they come here I’m going to tell them it was you that took it”
“If you tell them I took it, I’ll tell them you helped”
“That’s fucked up”
“Yeah well, that frozen pizza doesn’t stay frozen by itself”
About a week later, an ad appeared in the “personals” section of The Medium (the student-run trash mag of Rutgers).“To the fat chubby kid with the long blonde hair who lives on Third Floor South Tower. I know you were the one who stole the refrigerator.”It was very amusing, seeing as he was the only person who could have possibly put it there. So what I did of course, was find about 10 issues of the fine publication and cut out the personal from each one, and then taped them all to my door with pride. Then, while my roommate was present, I brought a friend into my room:
“Let’s face it, you’re either fat or chubby. If you’re going to collar me, at least be decisive. Son of a bitch.” I complained. “Do I look fat in these pants?” “It’s probably the pants.”
I’m ready to admit I could lose a few, but I don’t know if you’d consider me chubby or not. I’m no Augustus Gloop, that’s for sure — Although the concept of a chocolate river does sound delicious. Plus, I mean, I’ve got a twinkle in my eye and a certain cleverness that the ladies just can’t resist. Boy do they ever swoon. Do you see how I italicized swoon right there? It’s like the word swoon is actually falling over, swooning, if you will. Chicks love that shit. Believe me, I know.
I had to buy a special stick with which to beat the ladies off of me with, because there are in fact, so many ladies, that I require such a device. That’s how many ladies there are. It’s crazy. But hey, we’re getting off topic.
The next day my friend and I decided to prepare a note in large print and tape it with several layers of packing tape to my door when my roommate wasn’t around. The note read:
I KNOW YOU BOTH STOLE MY FUCKING REFRIGERATOR AND I *WILL* KILL YOU WHEN I SEE YOU, FAGS!
When he saw it, he kind of went mental. It might have been the beginning of the end. It was truly an accomplishment that, even now it brings a slight tear to the eye. The whole charade went on for a few more weeks, but eventually I think maybe a sympathetic girl on the floor told him what was going on. At the end of the year, I began to try and tell him about what went on and he said that he already found out that it wasn’t stolen a while ago. But by that time, the guy had already completely snapped.
But that, my friends, is a story for another time.