The Wretch, part 3

I came home for lunch on Friday and found Bob TV at the top of the stairs on the landing between our rooms. He was throwing stuff into a trash barrel which was already full and swarming with flies (two types: fruit and the bigger ones I don't know the name of). Good, I thought, he's actually doing something; got the wheels in motion. I wasn't too pleased at all the flies that had migrated from his room to mine, but whatever, things were getting done. I ate my lunch and headed back to work, my mind at rest.

When I came home that evening, it didn't look like Bob TV had made any progress with his packing. This was alarming to me because Kreg was going to be arriving early the following morning. He was having a bed delivered from Jordan's and wanted to be there to sign off on it and take advantage of a free set up. I held my tongue and took it on faith that Bob "My word is nothing more than shit" TV would do as he said and spend all night if he had to getting his stuff packed and out of the room.

I knew that Bob's procrastination was going to prevent him from cleaning his room , that den of body odor, stale cigarette smell, dead skin, and God knows what else. That room needed to have been aired out, quarantined even, days beforehand. Now, it didn't like it was going to happen at all. Well, at least he was moving out. There was that.

Throughout the night I'd pass by his room and look through the crack in the door. His room looked as lived in as ever and my hope that he was making progress diminished considerably. I decided not to fret about it and went to bed.

I woke up Saturday morning and got ready for work. Not a peep was heard from behind Bob "I told you once, I'll tell you again--I don't care about anyone but myself" TV's door. I ate breakfast and fumed. Nothing had been done, at least not in the house proper. His shit was laying everywhere.

Before I left for work, I pounded on his door. "Bob, you've got to get up. Kreg will be here in about twenty minutes!"

From his room came a cracked, slurred, and nonplussed voice. "Oh, I guess I should get up then."

I went downstairs to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. When I was done a minute later, I went through the kitchen to head out the back door. Standing in the kitchen pissing into a Fresca bottle was none other than Bob"The Ladies Man" TV. I was rendered speechless and could only ruefully shake my head. Bob TV scurried out the back door with his piss bottle and I followed, only because that was the way to my car. As I came down the stairs, I saw Bob TV at the side of the house dumping his piss all over the place. He started talking to me, but none of it registered; I was dumbfounded.

That was just the tip of the iceberg. Bob TV was about to show us what it means to be a small, selfish, and uncaring cunt.