Bert and Geoff, the wonder roommates!
I feel something hard and plastic collide with the side of my face, vaulting me out of a peaceful slumber. I look down to see my pager vibrating on the mattress, it's loud, incessant chirp screaming into my ear. I rub my face tiredly, picking up the face and staring down at the screen. But there's nothing there, not anything definable at least. Just a row of convoluted numbers and letters. I turn it off, tucking it down into my pocket and sitting up in bed. So much for beauty sleep. I can hear Geoff squawking loudly from the shower, and banging his fists along the walls to the beat of whatever it was he is singing. I get out of bed, smoothing down my hair and kicking at the door, "Geoff, I swear to god if you don't SHUT UP I will castrate you with a pair of rusted butter knives!"
He laughs loudly and I hear the water shut off, and the curtain being tossed open. Next thing I know, a drippy naked Geoff is standing before me, smiling coldly. "What?!" he shouts, tossing his hands up.
I try to look anywhere but at his crotch. His neck tattoo, his earrings, his hair, the towels, but I'm drawn towards it. Like a moth towards some kind of perverted, fleshy flame. He smirks, "Like what you see, Berty-Boo?" he laughs, tossing his head back and sending water all over the floor.
I shake my head, "Geoff, are you working today?"
Don't stare at his manhood. Look anywhere but there... OH MY GOD IT'S SO HAIRY!
He shrugs, picking a towel up from his feet and wrapping it around his waist, "I think so... but not until 3 or 4."
I curse under my breath, I had the only car, and we could share it quite easily, but it was the few times when we were both scheduled to work together that problems arose. Mostly, I would go with Geoff and hang around in the bar until my shift started, and would pick him up when I got off. But sometimes, my shift started before his, and he had to come to the clinic with me.
Which was impossibly awkward for everyone. As if most of the staff didn't hate me enough, having my boisterous roommate flounce around making lewd comments to the barely legal girls who were housed there didn't exactly look good on my part. Geoff has little to no respect or sympathy for anyone, especially women he could see as a potential fuck buddy.
"My shift starts at one, which means you'll have to come with me. Dammit..." I trail off, beating up my insides in a silent rage.
Geoff shrugs, "I can find a ride, Bert," he mutters, not even bothering to be convincing or insistent.
I groan to myself and head down stairs. I could really use a beer right now, but I'm not allowed to drink so close to my shift start. Geoff follows behind, rubbing his hair dry with an old, blotchy towel. He flops down onto the futon, stretching his legs out and fishing a cigarette from his pocket, "You stress too much man. You need to learn to mellow out sometimes."
Now, I'm usually a relatively calm person, except when it comes to work. Because where I work I'm treated like the scum I clean from the toilets everyday. It's not exactly a loving, care-free environment, despite the fact that's whats driving the entire clinic's purpose. I walk out into the living room, glaring down at Geoff as he blows a puff of smoke towards the ceiling. I flops down on top of his stomach, causing him to gasp and nearly swallow his cancer stick.
He rubs his face, trying to ease his coughing, "You ass, I coulda choked on that thing!"
I just smile, pulling it from his fingers and taking a more than welcomed drag into my mouth, "I'm very mellow Geoffy."
He blinks in confusion at my simple, lackadaisical response, "Huh?"
I laugh to myself, shoving the half-smoked stub back into his hand and getting off his chest, "I'm gonna go take a shower, be ready to leave when I come back downstairs."
He just nods, stamping out the cigarette into a nearby ashtray and wiping the dust off the front of his shirt. I trudge up the carpeted stairs, feeling the soft shag beneath my bare feet as I turned for the cramped bathroom. I toss the curtain open, flipping on the hot water and grabbing a grubby towel from the closet. The entire bathroom smells like cheap shaving cream and Menthols, the noxious fumes permeating off the mound of soiled clothes piled carelessly in the corner.
I really hate this bathroom... and this apartment. I step into the molded shower, washing up quickly and trying to untangle my long hair. I dry off, wrapping my hair up in the towel and walking in my room, pulling out a clean set of scrubs and tossing them onto my unkempt bed. I can hear Geoff milling around mindlessly downstairs, bumping into things and banging pans together as he fixes lunch.
As I'm pulling on my top on, I hear a loud crash and Geoff cursing and screaming. The oven door must have popped open again. Everything in our house is a complete piece of shit, most of it taken form yard sales and surplus stores. None of our furniture matched, the refrigerator light has been busted for 5 years, and the oven door randomly bursts open and clangs against the floor.
I walk downstairs, picking up my shoes from the hallway and pulling them on as I crash onto the futon, "Ready to go?"
Geoff just shrugs, cracking open a can of some kind and strolling out of the kitchen, "Whevever you are, princess."
I pick up my keys off the coffee table and follow Geoff outside. The sky is an ever-darkening gray, and the quiet purr of thunder rolls quietly in the backround. I get inside the car, grimacing as the thunder roars to life in a series of blasts and clicks. I pull out of the grassy, cracked lot and towards downtown, not looking foreward to the next 4 hours.
Geoff remains fairly silent the whole time, nursing a can of some obscure beer and staring at the window towards the city, his eyes scanning the dirty skyline clouded in a ring of smog. The clinic appears just beyond a cluster of traffic, and I sigh deeply, the deafening sounds of thunder ringing out overhead, "Goddammit... I hate my life, Geoff."
He simply smirks, "Welcome to America."