This article is part of the Anime Roommate series.
Dare I mention the Slip 'N Slide incident? You and your friends lined up a dozen Slip 'N Slide mats, then tied a rope around my legs and dragged me for what seemed like half a mile down a cold river of soapy water while I screamed for mercy. Jerry, there was broken glass and rocks under those mats, not to mention countless bacteria cultures. I could have died from your little stunt, but still I forgave you.
Remember when you accused me of smelling like a "carnie brothel"? I turned the other cheek, though I did take a moment to correct you on some slight misconceptions regarding the differences between carnival folk and sex workers.
"Buttered-up frozen turkey in dirty sweatpants"? I just shrugged my shoulders wondering what such a wild accusation even has to do with me. "A shit-drooling jack-in-the-box popping out of a septic tank"? It's utterly shameful, Jerry, for you to say these things to me knowing full well that I suffer from body dysmorphia. Thankfully your insults are too childish to even put a dent in me.
You want to challenge me, Jerry, to a game of wits? Well, here's a retort sure to sting: Jerry, you're an imbecile and you make Tomo Takino look like a genius. I'd like to see you top that thorny barb, Jerry.
Pretty hot, eh? I could introduce you two, Jerry. ^___~More importantly, Jerry, you continuously refer to the art of the culture I respect so much -- the Nipponese -- as being "shitty." Really, Jerry? What you fail to see is that there is more character and personality displayed in the eyes of an anime character than in all the art of the western world combined. Look into the beautiful eyes of Sylia Stingray from Bubblegum Crisis and try not to fall in love. I DARE YOU. If I weren't asexual, she would be all I think about.
Look, Jerry. I know you're mad. And I forgive you. I forgive you for everything you've done to me. I welcome you back into our house as an equal in spite of your obvious shortcomings. Heck, Jerry, I wish Saeki Koushirou himself would show up and plan some kind of reunion celebration, where you and I bury the hatchet and get back together for good.
Jerry, I am ready to continue my relationship as your mentor. You just need to forgive yourself, Jerry. I'll continue to talk to my therapist about you and pass on what he tells me. I know you're too proud to talk to one yourself, so I'm happy to act as mediator until you're ready to make that big step and get control of your life back. You can't punch out windows any time an obstacle presents itself, otherwise you're going to end up in prison for sure.
Don't worry, Jerry. I've got your back. I'm looking out for you.
Oh, and Jerry... Can you please also have your dad come by and fix the window you broke? The cold air makes it hard for me to sleep, and I already have a lot of difficulty due to my sleep apnea.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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A blob of rotting flesh writes passive-aggressive letters to his roommate Jerry waxing poetic on the undeniable beauty and cultural importance of anime.