Oh man, am I ever a genius. Earlier this evening, our housemate Sarah was the angriest I’d ever seen her, and very upset. She kind of calmed down a little bit as we drove home, and thereafter entered a period of frenetic cleaning.
I smelled disaster.
I pitched in with the cleaning, but as soon as I could plausably excuse myself from my housekeeping duties, I retreated and made a phone call to a friend’s house. I left immediately.
Fifty minutes later my other housemate Josh shows up. Eventually it is revealed that he walked over because Sarah;s car was blocking him in, and to get her to move it he would have had to “go back inside.”
So after an hour and a half or so, we drive back home, just as Sarah is getting in her car outside. Soon, the illest of winds blew from her mouth, thereby confirming my suspicions of a full blown female emotional hurricane.
The typhoon was unleashed in a sobbing, stilting barrage of raw scathing emotion. However, because I had gotten out of the house before things really turned south, this barrage was directed only at Josh, who was accused of having abandoned Sarah in her dire hour of need. She said that she threw up three times in two hours - from emotional distress. But I had a pass, because I got out while it was still plausible that she might be able to hold it together.
I am one smart motherfucker.
Even now, the storm is raging. The poor man is being buffeted by her blows. But really, what do you do when an incredibly hot girl is crawling on your lap, bawling and screaming at you? It’s perhaps the most frightening apparition that can be imagined by the male mind.
And because I am a cold-hearted emotionless bastard, I get a pass.