I Think My Roommate Likes Eating Needles Like the title…
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I Think My Roommate Likes Eating Needles
Like the title says, I’m pretty sure my roommate Rob is some kind of a freak, lowkey. I really like Rob though, and I pray I’m being lead astray here in my conclusions.
It started a few years ago in college when I ran into Rob at one of my electives. At the time, everyone at Sunday coffee hour kept telling me I should meet more people my age, so I figured I’d strike up a conversation with the dude sitting next to me. He was really into football like a bunch of my buddies, so I figured it’d be fun if we all got together for Sunday football, and it was. We became best buds over nachos and beer throughout college. I even remember I would thank the lord on my way out of church that I finally had a close group of friends, that’s how glad I was for meeting him.
After we graduated, I was looking to move out of my moms and I ran headfirst into the disaster that is rent prices. He was actually the first one to mention looking for a roommate. His dad was kicking him out because they’d been having bad arguments, which was insane. How could a family just treat each other like that? Anyway, we decided to be roommates. He got this office job right out of college, and I started working at a restaurant and it was a done deal.
The first time I noticed something was off was during that second day as we were unpacking. Rob was grilling me ‘cause I was blasting some girly pop music while I unpacked (Chappell Roan is highkey fire, no matter who you are), so I started looking around to get my get back. I’m not of a wrathful nature, but it was fun messing with Rob. I started poking around his stuff and seeing what I could break into.
“Yo, Hersch, don’t go looking in my stuff. Come on dude,” he said as he watched me scheme. My name’s Herschel by the way.
“Nah, nah, nah, you started it. What secrets you got up in here?” I said as I grabbed a medium sized cardboard box that felt pretty heavy. Dashing across the room, I ripped the tape off and opened it hoping to find something incriminating. I froze in place. It was full of needles. Not like an ‘oh, he likes sewing’ amount of needles. This was much more like, ‘does he sell needles?’ Anyway, the box was filled to the brim to the point where it’d be a disaster if this thing spilled. We’d never find all the needles. “Umm, big dawg, what the hell is this?” I asked, holding it towards him.
“Tch, man, that’s my shit yo. It’s needles, dude,” he said as he grabbed the box out of my hand and closed it. He stomped away muttering, and he looked genuinely upset. My initial surprise flipped into hilarious confusion, and I burst out laughing. What was he, some kind of closeted seamster or something? What the hell? I swear I didn’t mean to judge Rob, my right hand to god I didn’t. But it was definitely unusual.
“Nah dawg, what WAS that? WHY do you have a box of them?” I asked, doubling over in laughter.
“Dude, it’s just needles. It’s from my nana. She sewed her whole life. It’s sentimental,” he said, frowning. I took a deep breath and stood up straight, because family is no laughing matter. The fact I’d held something important to Rob even sent a subtle pang through my unsteady heart.
“Alright, bet. Imagine you were some kinda psychopath though? Like you just start eating them with food and shit? Hahaha. Like you just have a bowl of needles and milk for breakfast?” I asked, forcing a laugh and trying to play it off. I hope I didn’t come off rude and insensitive before. Rob paused for a moment, looking down at the box in his hands. Then he grinned and laughed at my joke.
“Hahaha, yeah, that’d be ridiculous. But no, I’m not eating them, dude,” Rob said, putting the box down where it started. Honestly, if it just ended at that, I wouldn’t have to type all this up, but it doesn’t! It gets weirder! Oh Rob, why couldn’t it just end there?
I should mention that prior to this, there was another weird thing about him, but again, on its own it was nothing. Tuesdays. As long as I’ve known Rob, he’s always gone radio silent on Tuesdays. I always figured it was either something to do with his family or maybe he just used Tuesdays to do some sinning, like hooking up or drugs. I never asked about Rob’s dating life. One of the other guys ran with the hookup thing and we started calling it Rob’s ‘Tuesday touching and sucking’, hahahaha. The problem is that when we moved in, I learned that’s not what it was at all, to my relief and horror.
A few days ago was the first Tuesday since we moved in. I woke up to rumbling at like, 9 am, and I sat up in bed confused in the dark. It was coming from just past the door to my room. It sounded like a garbage truck was passing by, or something. I stood up out of bed and listened. I didn’t know if Rob was moving furniture around or what?
“Rob, is that you?” I called out. I reached for the door to the living room but I stopped short, my hand hovering just above the knob. Standing in the light of the door frame, I felt the dull ache and disorientation of a hangover come over me even though I didn’t drink the night before. The sunlight spilling across my feet from under my door was beaming bright, and looking at it made me feel worse. I swear I didn’t remember getting drunk the night before but I clearly had a migraine and I was even sweating a little so maybe I did? I swear I’m a temperate dude, hahaha.
“Yeah, man, I’m just moving a bunch of stuff across the living room. Got your door blocked. Wait a sec, I’ll let you know when it’s clear,” he said through grunts. Sure enough, the rumbling moved over to his room, and then I heard his door close. He shouted “Alright!” through the walls so I opened the door. Everything was arranged normally, cast in a dim light from the window that looked out to an overcast sky. I was gonna head back into my room to sleep in more, but then I heard the mumbling. It was Rob mumbling in his room, which was now locked. Creeping over to his door and I listened closely to make out some of the mumbling. The door was warm to the touch.
“Let it pass. Please. For the love of God, let it pass. Come on. Go down, go down, go down, go down…” Rob was mumbling in a strained voice, breathing heavily on the other side of that door. I thought he was sick or something, so I just went back to my room to sleep.
The thing is, when I woke up from my nap, nothing much had changed. I walked out of my room to see that Rob’s door was still locked. Nothing in the living room was out of place, so I was puzzled as to what he moved around earlier. I could tell he was still there too, because he was shuffling around in his room, and it sounded like he was rummaging through his drawers for something. I just gave up on thinking about it and got dressed for work. Because I work at a restaurant, I can usually sleep in and don’t really have to get ready until like 3 in the afternoon.
I sat on the couch in the living room to put my shoes on. To clarify something, I should mention at this point that our apartment is pretty small. The living room was just wide enough on the one wall to perfectly fit the couch against it with a tall lamp able to squeeze in the remaining corner space. As I sat on the couch, I noticed in the corner of my eye that the lamp was tilted slightly. I got up and straightened it out, or at least I tried to. It wouldn’t stand straight up. I leaned over to see what was obstructing it on the floor, and there was nothing there. It just didn’t fit between the couch and the wall anymore. I tried pushing the couch over, but it wouldn’t move. I checked the other side of the couch but it was right up against the wall. I checked both ends of it two more times and stood there stupefied. Either the couch grew somehow, or the room was…smaller?
Looking around, I could see that other things were huddled a little closer together than I remembered. I know houses shift a little due to temperature or something, but this would have to have been several inches of shifting. I was so confused, and walked over to Rob’s room to get another opinion.
“Yo Rob, I think I’m tripping over here. Can you take a look at this?” I called from outside his room. Whatever rummaging he’d been doing stopped all at once.
“I’m busy Hersch. I’m busy today, man. You know this,” Rob said from his room.
“Dude, I’m serious. I think the living room shrunk, haha. It’s nuts. You gotta take a look at this shit,” I said, knocking on his door with a little urgency.
“What!? No…” Rob said before immediately wrenching his door open. Bloodshot eyes greeted me without their characteristic warmness, along with a wrinkled shirt and furrowed eyebrows. He wasn’t his usual handsome self, and kind of looked like garbage. He was gripping his shirt with white knuckles like he had chest pains or something.
“Yo, what’s good with you?” I asked, taking a step back. There was that dull headache again.
He looked down at himself, burped, and shut the door again saying he wasn’t feeling well. Something’s definitely up with him, but that’s not what caught my attention. In the time that he opened the door, I glanced into his room. They were everywhere. All over the floor, his desk, and bed, were needles like he’d just dumped that box all over the room. The worst part was that they’d been stacked high on a plate on his desk. They were on a plate! I think I saw something I shouldn’t have.
On Wednesday, he was fine. He dapped me up like usual, went to work, and swung by the restaurant to chill like nothing happened. I didn’t bring it up to him, instead I did something I still don’t agree with. I have off on Thursdays, so while he was at work I snuck into his room. On a first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Upon scouring the corners, I started to find them. Needles left that he’d missed when he cleaned up, in corners, and stuck in his sheets and clothes. I know I’m wrong for sneaking about but I’m so weirded out by this. My brain was overheating just piecing this together in a way that doesn’t make Rob out to be crazy until I opened his drawer.
Sliding open the drawer, what hit me first was nausea and a dizzying ‘something’ burrowed through my thoughts and made me stumble. It was like a picture was physically forced into my mind too blurry and alien for me to make out, disorienting me so that I squeezed my eyes shut. When the sensation faded I opened my eyes to see horror, and the gruesome consequence of my curiosity. I shut the drawer immediately, and tripped out of the room, slamming the door behind me. Even though I knew Rob wasn’t home, I kept glancing around and checking the locks on the doors like he was gonna come rushing in any minute. I still keep glancing out the window even now. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to type out what I saw there, but honestly I want to vomit even now. Just imagine the worst thing that can fit in a drawer I guess, and picture needles all over, and you’ll be close enough.
I just don’t understand, but I want to. I want to understand Rob. I want to get closer to him. This needle thing just doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Then there’s the living room. It’s still smaller by the way. I had to move the lamp so that it now sits in front of the couch. When I talked to Rob about it, he shrugged and chalked it up to it being an old house like it wasn’t an issue at all. Unless he just carpentered the room down a few inches as a prank or something, I don’t get it. That lamp definitely fit in that corner when we first moved in. Now it doesn’t.
The worst part of it all is that today I went back into his room while he went to the store. The plate is gone, but there’s still needles in corners. I was ready to believe I made it all up but then I noticed it as I turned to leave, the thing I tripped on on my way out before. There’s a gap between his floor and the doorway, and it’s at an angle. Somehow, someway, it was like his room was rotated a few degrees. My mind started spiraling again so I just walked out the house and grabbed a drink with a buddy to take my mind off of it. First a few inches here, then a few degrees there, then that thing on a plate and sometimes, I even think back to that painful light. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do, but I know I can’t live in fear of my roommate forever. This Tuesday I’ll confront him. I know God will protect me. And of course, I pray every night that it’s just all in my head.
#entertainment
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Like the title says, I’m pretty sure my roommate Rob is some kind of a freak, lowkey. I really like Rob though, and I pray I’m being lead astray here in my conclusions.
It started a few years ago in college when I ran into Rob at one of my electives. At the time, everyone at Sunday coffee hour kept telling me I should meet more people my age, so I figured I’d strike up a conversation with the dude sitting next to me. He was really into football like a bunch of my buddies, so I figured it’d be fun if we all got together for Sunday football, and it was. We became best buds over nachos and beer throughout college. I even remember I would thank the lord on my way out of church that I finally had a close group of friends, that’s how glad I was for meeting him.
After we graduated, I was looking to move out of my moms and I ran headfirst into the disaster that is rent prices. He was actually the first one to mention looking for a roommate. His dad was kicking him out because they’d been having bad arguments, which was insane. How could a family just treat each other like that? Anyway, we decided to be roommates. He got this office job right out of college, and I started working at a restaurant and it was a done deal.
The first time I noticed something was off was during that second day as we were unpacking. Rob was grilling me ‘cause I was blasting some girly pop music while I unpacked (Chappell Roan is highkey fire, no matter who you are), so I started looking around to get my get back. I’m not of a wrathful nature, but it was fun messing with Rob. I started poking around his stuff and seeing what I could break into.
“Yo, Hersch, don’t go looking in my stuff. Come on dude,” he said as he watched me scheme. My name’s Herschel by the way.
“Nah, nah, nah, you started it. What secrets you got up in here?” I said as I grabbed a medium sized cardboard box that felt pretty heavy. Dashing across the room, I ripped the tape off and opened it hoping to find something incriminating. I froze in place. It was full of needles. Not like an ‘oh, he likes sewing’ amount of needles. This was much more like, ‘does he sell needles?’ Anyway, the box was filled to the brim to the point where it’d be a disaster if this thing spilled. We’d never find all the needles. “Umm, big dawg, what the hell is this?” I asked, holding it towards him.
“Tch, man, that’s my shit yo. It’s needles, dude,” he said as he grabbed the box out of my hand and closed it. He stomped away muttering, and he looked genuinely upset. My initial surprise flipped into hilarious confusion, and I burst out laughing. What was he, some kind of closeted seamster or something? What the hell? I swear I didn’t mean to judge Rob, my right hand to god I didn’t. But it was definitely unusual.
“Nah dawg, what WAS that? WHY do you have a box of them?” I asked, doubling over in laughter.
“Dude, it’s just needles. It’s from my nana. She sewed her whole life. It’s sentimental,” he said, frowning. I took a deep breath and stood up straight, because family is no laughing matter. The fact I’d held something important to Rob even sent a subtle pang through my unsteady heart.
“Alright, bet. Imagine you were some kinda psychopath though? Like you just start eating them with food and shit? Hahaha. Like you just have a bowl of needles and milk for breakfast?” I asked, forcing a laugh and trying to play it off. I hope I didn’t come off rude and insensitive before. Rob paused for a moment, looking down at the box in his hands. Then he grinned and laughed at my joke.
“Hahaha, yeah, that’d be ridiculous. But no, I’m not eating them, dude,” Rob said, putting the box down where it started. Honestly, if it just ended at that, I wouldn’t have to type all this up, but it doesn’t! It gets weirder! Oh Rob, why couldn’t it just end there?
I should mention that prior to this, there was another weird thing about him, but again, on its own it was nothing. Tuesdays. As long as I’ve known Rob, he’s always gone radio silent on Tuesdays. I always figured it was either something to do with his family or maybe he just used Tuesdays to do some sinning, like hooking up or drugs. I never asked about Rob’s dating life. One of the other guys ran with the hookup thing and we started calling it Rob’s ‘Tuesday touching and sucking’, hahahaha. The problem is that when we moved in, I learned that’s not what it was at all, to my relief and horror.
A few days ago was the first Tuesday since we moved in. I woke up to rumbling at like, 9 am, and I sat up in bed confused in the dark. It was coming from just past the door to my room. It sounded like a garbage truck was passing by, or something. I stood up out of bed and listened. I didn’t know if Rob was moving furniture around or what?
“Rob, is that you?” I called out. I reached for the door to the living room but I stopped short, my hand hovering just above the knob. Standing in the light of the door frame, I felt the dull ache and disorientation of a hangover come over me even though I didn’t drink the night before. The sunlight spilling across my feet from under my door was beaming bright, and looking at it made me feel worse. I swear I didn’t remember getting drunk the night before but I clearly had a migraine and I was even sweating a little so maybe I did? I swear I’m a temperate dude, hahaha.
“Yeah, man, I’m just moving a bunch of stuff across the living room. Got your door blocked. Wait a sec, I’ll let you know when it’s clear,” he said through grunts. Sure enough, the rumbling moved over to his room, and then I heard his door close. He shouted “Alright!” through the walls so I opened the door. Everything was arranged normally, cast in a dim light from the window that looked out to an overcast sky. I was gonna head back into my room to sleep in more, but then I heard the mumbling. It was Rob mumbling in his room, which was now locked. Creeping over to his door and I listened closely to make out some of the mumbling. The door was warm to the touch.
“Let it pass. Please. For the love of God, let it pass. Come on. Go down, go down, go down, go down…” Rob was mumbling in a strained voice, breathing heavily on the other side of that door. I thought he was sick or something, so I just went back to my room to sleep.
The thing is, when I woke up from my nap, nothing much had changed. I walked out of my room to see that Rob’s door was still locked. Nothing in the living room was out of place, so I was puzzled as to what he moved around earlier. I could tell he was still there too, because he was shuffling around in his room, and it sounded like he was rummaging through his drawers for something. I just gave up on thinking about it and got dressed for work. Because I work at a restaurant, I can usually sleep in and don’t really have to get ready until like 3 in the afternoon.
I sat on the couch in the living room to put my shoes on. To clarify something, I should mention at this point that our apartment is pretty small. The living room was just wide enough on the one wall to perfectly fit the couch against it with a tall lamp able to squeeze in the remaining corner space. As I sat on the couch, I noticed in the corner of my eye that the lamp was tilted slightly. I got up and straightened it out, or at least I tried to. It wouldn’t stand straight up. I leaned over to see what was obstructing it on the floor, and there was nothing there. It just didn’t fit between the couch and the wall anymore. I tried pushing the couch over, but it wouldn’t move. I checked the other side of the couch but it was right up against the wall. I checked both ends of it two more times and stood there stupefied. Either the couch grew somehow, or the room was…smaller?
Looking around, I could see that other things were huddled a little closer together than I remembered. I know houses shift a little due to temperature or something, but this would have to have been several inches of shifting. I was so confused, and walked over to Rob’s room to get another opinion.
“Yo Rob, I think I’m tripping over here. Can you take a look at this?” I called from outside his room. Whatever rummaging he’d been doing stopped all at once.
“I’m busy Hersch. I’m busy today, man. You know this,” Rob said from his room.
“Dude, I’m serious. I think the living room shrunk, haha. It’s nuts. You gotta take a look at this shit,” I said, knocking on his door with a little urgency.
“What!? No…” Rob said before immediately wrenching his door open. Bloodshot eyes greeted me without their characteristic warmness, along with a wrinkled shirt and furrowed eyebrows. He wasn’t his usual handsome self, and kind of looked like garbage. He was gripping his shirt with white knuckles like he had chest pains or something.
“Yo, what’s good with you?” I asked, taking a step back. There was that dull headache again.
He looked down at himself, burped, and shut the door again saying he wasn’t feeling well. Something’s definitely up with him, but that’s not what caught my attention. In the time that he opened the door, I glanced into his room. They were everywhere. All over the floor, his desk, and bed, were needles like he’d just dumped that box all over the room. The worst part was that they’d been stacked high on a plate on his desk. They were on a plate! I think I saw something I shouldn’t have.
On Wednesday, he was fine. He dapped me up like usual, went to work, and swung by the restaurant to chill like nothing happened. I didn’t bring it up to him, instead I did something I still don’t agree with. I have off on Thursdays, so while he was at work I snuck into his room. On a first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Upon scouring the corners, I started to find them. Needles left that he’d missed when he cleaned up, in corners, and stuck in his sheets and clothes. I know I’m wrong for sneaking about but I’m so weirded out by this. My brain was overheating just piecing this together in a way that doesn’t make Rob out to be crazy until I opened his drawer.
Sliding open the drawer, what hit me first was nausea and a dizzying ‘something’ burrowed through my thoughts and made me stumble. It was like a picture was physically forced into my mind too blurry and alien for me to make out, disorienting me so that I squeezed my eyes shut. When the sensation faded I opened my eyes to see horror, and the gruesome consequence of my curiosity. I shut the drawer immediately, and tripped out of the room, slamming the door behind me. Even though I knew Rob wasn’t home, I kept glancing around and checking the locks on the doors like he was gonna come rushing in any minute. I still keep glancing out the window even now. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to type out what I saw there, but honestly I want to vomit even now. Just imagine the worst thing that can fit in a drawer I guess, and picture needles all over, and you’ll be close enough.
I just don’t understand, but I want to. I want to understand Rob. I want to get closer to him. This needle thing just doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Then there’s the living room. It’s still smaller by the way. I had to move the lamp so that it now sits in front of the couch. When I talked to Rob about it, he shrugged and chalked it up to it being an old house like it wasn’t an issue at all. Unless he just carpentered the room down a few inches as a prank or something, I don’t get it. That lamp definitely fit in that corner when we first moved in. Now it doesn’t.
The worst part of it all is that today I went back into his room while he went to the store. The plate is gone, but there’s still needles in corners. I was ready to believe I made it all up but then I noticed it as I turned to leave, the thing I tripped on on my way out before. There’s a gap between his floor and the doorway, and it’s at an angle. Somehow, someway, it was like his room was rotated a few degrees. My mind started spiraling again so I just walked out the house and grabbed a drink with a buddy to take my mind off of it. First a few inches here, then a few degrees there, then that thing on a plate and sometimes, I even think back to that painful light. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do, but I know I can’t live in fear of my roommate forever. This Tuesday I’ll confront him. I know God will protect me. And of course, I pray every night that it’s just all in my head.
#entertainment
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