One of my roommates brought home a water gun the other day. Luckily I’m not on his hit list. But my luck only goes so far — my other roommate is trigger-happy. As I found out when I got home from FHE on Monday and caught a blast of water in the chest. The ironic thing is that I turned the corner and didn’t see him in front of the door, so I thought I was home free. Turns out he was hiding on the second floor, waiting to snipe me.
And then tonight my one roommate asks me to help him carry in the groceries. It was a bit out of the ordinary, but then again he’s got a hook for a right hand and so I thought that maybe he had something heavy — perhaps a bag of potatoes. I followed him out the door. Then my peripheral vision caught sight of danger. As my body curled into defense posture (and what that means, I don’t really know, but it worked), my other roommate’s water gun shot barely missed me and I leapt back into the apartment.
It’s hard living with a sniper. ~sigh~

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