From the College Heights Herald, Jan. 18, 2001
I think my roommate is trying to kill me.
I thought nothing of it last week when I tasted arsenic on my ice cream, and I ignored it the night I woke up and saw him standing by my bed holding a pillow over my face.
I paid no mind when I saw him reading the instructional book “How to Kill Your Roommate and Get Away With It.” But the other day he said, “Jacob, I think I’m going to kill you.”
I put two and two together.
It’s nothing personal, he told me. You see, he hasn’t been doing all that great in school recently. And he’s heard the urban legend that if your roommate commits suicide during the school year, you get straight A’s for the semester.
So he came up with a plan: Since he’s on academic probation, he signed up for a bunch of classes. Now he wants to kill me and make it look like a suicide, and his semester GPA will be 4.0.
He even has a fake note planned out:
“Dear World, I’m tired of living. It’s been real. Hoo-ha-ho!”
He’s a smart guy, but he’s what the French call “les lazy.” He only took one class last semester.
He failed it.
So that loophole is the answer to his prayers.
“I can sit around for the rest of the semester – and actually get credit this time,” he said.
Naturally, my feelings are kinda hurt by my roommate’s desire to snuff out my life.
We’ve been tight since we were growing up in Brandenburg. Man, we were close.
We were like Siamese twins, except not from Siam.
Even worse, I don’t think I’ve been that bad of a roommate. I don’t stay up real late, I lend him quarters for his laundry, and I don’t entertain girls in the room, since they hate me.
Not only are my feelings hurt now that I know my roommate wants to kill me, I’m also terrified. To ease my worried mind I called President Gary Ransdell to find out if Western has an official policy on roommate deaths.
Ransdell’s secretary told me that the president was “too busy” to talk to me because he was “going out of town,” but she said he’d never heard of the policy and then she laughed at me.
I told my roommate this, and it only strengthened his resolve.
“Do you really think they’d tell you if that was their official policy?” he asked. “Of course not. Then everybody’d kill their roommates. Now here, drink some of this antifreeze – I mean, green Kool-Aid.”
Here comes columnist Jacob Bennett, he comes groovin’ up slowly, he got joo joo eyeballs, he one holy roller. He got hair down to his knees, got to be a joker he just do what he please. Come together, right now, over him at firstname.lastname@example.org