Bert makes a new "friend", but something about them isn't quiet clicking...
Before I continue, I should explain my flatmate, Geoff. He's not "crazy", to say the least, he just doesn't conform to societal norms. He was raised mega-Baptist by his bible humping parents, and the day he turned 16, he rebelled against almost everything they force-fed him. First he became vegetarian, and kind of a hippie. Most everything in our house is either solar powered or made from post-recycled crap. It creeps my out knowing someone's high school essay is now probably residing in my toilet paper. And then Geoff decided he was bisexual, but really I think he has in impossibly high sex drive and will take whatever piece of ass comes his way. Soon afterwords, he became a pot head, and got blasted almost every weekend until he was 21.
That's when he found his true calling.
Being impossibly high all the time, Geoff soon craved awkward combinations of food. I always thought pot was like a simulation of pregnancy for most men. He spent many nights hunched over his stove, throwing things into pots and pans and creating these outlandish dishes. Now, he works as the head chef for this place T'ang, where he spends the better part of his day throwing herbs on random dishes and smoking joints behind the freezer.
I stumble inside, tucking my hands inside my pockets to try and retain a bit of warmth. The house is dark and quiet, and smells of cigarettes and cooking. I toss my things on the stairs, going into the kitchen to find a suitable breakfast. I root around inside the refrigerator, when the captivating scent of chicken and oranges perks up. I look up to see Geoff standing beside me, his mouth full of food and a smirk etching across his face, "Morning princess," he mumbles, spraying a greenish blob onto the floor.
I sneer softly, standing up and putting a hand on my hip, "I thought you were vegetarian..."
He smiles, jumping up onto the counter and burying his fork into a mound of questionable-looking rice, "I am... but I was hungry and we were out of tofu." he explains, shoving more food into his mouth.
I narrow my gaze, feeling a laugh bubble up in my throat, "Are you high?"
Geoff just flips back his hair, "Probably," he titters, pushing more chicken into his mouth.
I watch him hungrily, listening to my own body beat itself up in protest, "D-did you save any?" I ask, hearing my voice waver as desperation set in.
He lifts his grubby hand, pointing to a crusty looking pan sitting by the stove. I rush towards it, grabbing a bowl from the sink on my way. Geoff just laughs at me, his shrill, annoying giggle echoing through the small kitchen. "You look like a crazy person..."
I shrug, sticking a mouthful of the lukewarm chicken into my mouth, "Geoff, [i]you[/i] just called [i]me[/i] a crazy person."
He sits back on his hands, resting his plate delicately on his lap, grabbing at a piece of broccoli. I stare up at him in a soft awe, watching his bony, pierced face grins wildly down on me, "So how was wooooork?"
I roll my eyes at his immaturity, dragging my fork through a lump of coagulated gravy, "It was fine, Geoffy... we have a new patient."
His eyes light up with a devilish curiosity, "You do, eh? Is she pretty? How old is she?"
A stream of questions, most inappropriate and crude, stream from his mouth. An incessant babble of awkward sexual questions involving victims of a horrible crime. I guess that's what makes Geoff so unique. He has no sympathy for anyone.
I shake my head, looking out the small kitchen window to a park a few yards away, "HE is young, maybe our age... and yeah, I guess he's pretty..."
Geoff blinks, obviously confused, "He? There's a guy there?"
I nod solemnly, thinking back about the look of pure shame etched across his face when he told me. I still feel bad for being such an ass towards him, but he shouldn't have blown me off when I tried to apologize. I hear Geoff shift on the counter, and look over at him, "Are you working tomorrow?"
He furrows his brow and sneers a little, "Yeah... why?"
I let a breath out through my nose, "I have to take some patients out to the 'real world'. So they can learn to function properly in society or whatever..."
I get tired of explaining, and bury my face back into my lunch, trying not to concentrate on the clock. If I don't know the time, it will go by slower. When 1 finally comes, It would have felt like I had the entire day to myself before being dragged back to the hell that is St. Joan's Rape Crisis Center.
I find it weird that the named the place after Joan of Arc, a 15-year-old schizo who barely even time to let her bra fill out before she was put in charge of the French army, and later burned alive. Talk about a fairy tale romance. I never got why women looked up to her, maybe it's just because she was a girl and conquered the entire English army or something. Still doesn't explain why she was burned alive.
I hear Geoff sigh and plop down onto the linoleum floor, before wandering into the living room and turning on the small TV in the corner. The sounds of some kid show blared through the Small space, making me look over as he blushed madly and rushed to change the station. I smirk and kick over a couple pizza boxes, sitting down on the ugly tweed couch beside him. "So... this guy... did you catch his name?"
I shake my head and feel myself pout, "He was kind of bitchy..."
Geoff laughs, turning the channel to some obscure talk show, "Well, duh. He's probably gay. You should totally hit that, Bert."
I glare at him, slugging him hard in the left shoulder, "No! He's my patient for one thing! And I'm not gay!" I shout, feeling my cheeks flush hot.
He rolls his eyes, propping his dirty socks onto the Coffey table, nearly knocking over several cans in the process. I grab a handful of quilt, dragging it over my lap and resting his face in my hands, "I wanna kill him..."
Geoff blinks, giving me an awkward look, "Kill who? The Guy?"
I bite down on my cheek, sucking on the smooth flesh there, "Yes... he's a threat to my authority... my reputation..."
He continues staring at me like I'm some creature from the sea with tentacles, "What did he do to you?"
I shake my head, standing up and shoving my hands into my pockets, "It doesn't matter. Not now at least."
Geoff watches as I slump out of the room, my head down and grumbling darkly to myself. I think I might take the kid with me tomorrow, start his therapy early. He needs to get used to me, even if neither of us want it. Plus, I have the horrible sinking feeling I'll be stuck with him, because for some reason because we're both guys we'll turn magically into best friends.
I sink down into my bed, kicking my shoes off and tossing them by the door. I look up at the cracked, brown ceiling, silently wishing that I would get a phone call that the place burned down and I never had to work again. Never have to see that guy again. But then reality reared her head, smirking and venom dripping from her lips, whispering over and over to me that I was to be stuck there for all eternity. Being tormented and never going anywhere in life. I lay my pager next to me, wrapping myself in the tattered blanket and falling asleep.