"Are you eating cereal? It's 8pm."
"Specific mealtimes are social constructs that have no real impact on our lives."
"Is that my cereal?"
"O-ownership is a social construct that..." -- OohLookShiny
There are drawbacks to rooming with a pseudo-intellectual. First was having to know the thesaurus just to have a conversation with them. The second was not murdering them for their constant over-corrections.
And the third...
Madrass(not his real name. He claimed it was 'more spiritual') had taken over the couch. And the TV. And was apparently violating noise laws by playing some zombie show at a hundred and thirty decibels. And eating a salad bowl serving size of cereal.
Frank turned the volume down to a more comfortable audio level. "What the shit, dude?"
"What happens to be the excrement, my good gentlesir," corrected Madrass. "As it so happens, I was enjoying the premium entertainment that is entitled, Bikini Zombie Bloodbath Twenty-seven: Zombie A-Go-Go: The Revengenating. But since you have so rudely interrupted my enjoyment at the optimal volume, I shall be forced to commence anew."
Can't kill him. He pays the rent. "We have thin walls and angry neighbours. Why aren't you using those five-hundred-dollar headphones?"
"Sadly, my ears are misshapen and the stereo wearable speakers cause a great irritation. I must use the extant speakers as they are currently present, lest discomfort plague my enjoyment."
You're the embodiment of a great irritation. "Do you remember how I told you I have a day job? Especially the bit about starting early? And needing to sleep at eight thirty?"
"That is not a matter of import, I have paid for adequate soundproofing. Your sleep should remain undisturbed."
"We discussed this. Your idea of soundproofing provokes an allergic reaction. And it doesn't work. And why are you eating cereal at 8PM?"
"Specific mealtimes are social constructs that have no real impact on our lives."
It wasn't just any cereal either. It was Frank's $15-a-box celiac cereal. "Is that my cereal?" I could murder him, and the world would be glad. Civilisation would be better off without his brand of asshole. No jury would convict me.
Madrass seemed to sense that Frank was approaching a point where homicide would improve the state of things. His usual unflappable state of uncaring cracked and faltered. "Uh. O-ownership is a-a-a-a social c-construct that..."
"You're paying for replacements for all of that before tomorrow. You are no longer allowed access to the television past 8PM," and, to prove his point, he seized the remotes and turned off the television. It was a safe bet that Madrass would not get up and use the manual buttons. Getting up to change things was not his way. "If you wake me up when I still need to sleep, I will fucking destroy whatever it is that's making the noise. And if you correct me one more goddamn time, I am kicking you out of this apartment and selling all your weeaboo fanwank to the highest bidder! NO amount of rent is worth putting up with you."
Madrass said the words that doomed him to the curb. "Non-existent Christ. You are becoming exactly like my previous crazy roommate."
Frank, in his humble opinion, deserved a medal for not killing him.
(Muse food remaining: 8. Submit a Prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories! Or comment below!)