South Dakota Premier Gamer Addiction Services (Draft)
Every morning since what seemed like forever:
Why did he keep waking up?
Every day he woke up, and every day it was no better. Just bored, just suicidal, just unhappy, take your fucking pick.
In addition, his roommate was fucking stupid, premierly stupid. Absolute, the fuckhead was in here for COD, who gets addicted to COD?
Simpletons, that’s who, retards. No finesse required, plus, everything is key-stroked and shortcutted and glitched. Assuming fuckhead played on a PC. If he was here for a console, he should probably just kill himself now.
Greg had thought his relationship with his mother was great, she thought he was a piece of shit apparently. She wrecked his life by bringing that asshead Louis into the delicate symbiosis that was their household.
Now Greg was here. Herer was 4 white walls, rough sheets, no laptop, no Switch, no cell phone, a roommate who was 100lbs over weight and smelled and snored like it. Supposedly, all these assholes he got stuck with were just like him. And all the Greg assholes are supposed to be listening to these other assholes that are telling them not to be assholes.
He had had a job, he contributed to the house funds. His bitch ass mother, the traitor she was, left him as soon as she got a better deal from bitch ass Louis. So what if Greg had stabbed Louis, Louis happened to deserve it.
45 Days before ever morning that seemed like forever:
“You know it’s not healthy right?”
Diane did not want to discuss Greg, this was Louis’s weekly try to make her.
She noticed he had been trying to force it since he had moved in.
They had dated for 6 months and they both were in their late 40s. Louis had only mildly observed what Greg was like prior to the merger. And even now, he still only saw Greg in the few moments he spent out of his basement lair.
The presence of a man, not a child, because Greg was 23, not doing anything to provide for the household that he subsided in was an annoyance. Louis had always been self-sufficient. He looked down on men that couldn’t change their own oil or do household carpentry. That type of man was really just a renter of reality, they had no control of their own destiny but relied on other men to give it to them.
It nagged at Louis, needled in his mind at weird moments, as they the nagging sensation was a swiveling gyro in his mind that followed Greg as he moved through the house doing menial tasks: making a sandwich, taking a shit, post coetice. Anything Louis did and anywhere he was, that nagging orbital beacon would point in the direction of Greg’s basement room.
It shouldn’t have nagged at Louis, but it did, the more he thought that it shouldn’t nag him, the more it did.
The sad thing was how great Diane was. Supportive, loving, a lover, magnificent body, financially stable, and, best of all, her ex was dead. The baggage thing gets heavier the older you get. And dead baggage is better than living baggage from his experience.
So, overall, this was a great deal he fell into, and he should just let it ride, but that just wasn’t Louis’s way. He grew up with a strong Dad, too much conditioning disallowed him to let it go, a man was supposed to act a certain way in this world. If he did not try to change Greg, a tremendous ball of guilt was just going to continue growing in his stomach for the duration of his stay with Diane.
The whole incident happened because of a pizza, a pizza and running out of tampons. To be exact.
Diane had to run to the store, Greg had ordered a pizza, and Louis was 3 beers deep on a Sunday.
“Greg, did you order a pizza?” Louis shouted into the descending stairwell of the basement.
Louis waited and got no response, he hailed again, and a third time, all to no response.
Diane had not necessarily voiced the rule, but she had mentioned that all would be best if Louis did not go into Greg’s room without permission.
“Hey bud, you ok?”
Louis was slightly concerned.