The Crazy
So I went to my boyfriend's house last night after a day of wandering the mall aimlessly together (I had wanted to go to Kensington, but it was raining). My sleeping schedule's totally screwed up, so I was stumbling around like a zombie half the time. People around probably thought I was drunk or something, I couldn't walk in a straight line. щ(ಥДಥщ) What's a nocturnal person gotta do, man.
Anyway, we had Pizza Hut for dinner, because Pizza Pizza pizza sucks--it's dry and hard and unbalanced in terms of flavour. I have no idea how it's the most common pizza chain in Ontario. If I'm going to line the walls of my blood vessels in grease, I want it to taste good going in, at least. Immediately afterwards, I went upstairs to take a nap.
When I woke up, he said he had to call his mother. Nothing unusual: she's in China right now, so of course he had to check in with her frequently. He spoke in rapid Mandarin, which I don't understand at all. Halfway through, he started heading downstairs, and motioned for me to follow him. I guessed that he would feel lonely going down by himself, aww, or something cute like that, so I went along.
When he got to the kitchen, he picked up a Pizza Hut napkin from the trash, put it on the stove, and...
Turned.
On.
The stovetop.
I gaped and made WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK hand gestures, but he didn't respond at all. Meanwhile, he went on babbling in Mandarin.
Then he went down to the basement and motioned for me to follow. At this point, I was thinking, OH SHIT OH SHIT IS THIS THE POINT WHERE I FIND OUT MY BOYFRIEND IS A PSYCHO AND TOMORROW OUR MURDER-SUICIDE WILL BE ON THE FRONT PAGE OH SHI--
He went out to the parking lot quickly, returned, then headed back up to the kitchen. I still had no idea what was going on, so I just followed him.
The napkin was smoldering now. Then it BURST INTO FLAMES. He watched it calmly while sounding like he was trying to shoo his mom off the phone.
I didn't even know anymore. So I just said: "hey, be careful not to set off the fire alarm." He went over to turn on the exhaust. The floor was filled with the sweet smell of burning. Eventually, the flame died out; he got out a fork from the dishwasher and prodded the remnants of the napkin into the stove.
Finally, he turned off the phone, then ran to me and cried like a kid (half-jokingly). Apparently, he had killed a cockroach earlier with the Pizza Hut napkin, but he was afraid that he hadn't done it thoroughly enough, so the only option was to KILL IT WITH FIRE. I asked him if this was something that people from Jinan did with bugs, like how my late grandfather's nurse from... I don't remember where... would microwave old books to disinfect them, but he said no, he was just really afraid of cockroaches.
I told him he'd love Hong Kong, where the cockroaches are three inches long.
Anyway, we had Pizza Hut for dinner, because Pizza Pizza pizza sucks--it's dry and hard and unbalanced in terms of flavour. I have no idea how it's the most common pizza chain in Ontario. If I'm going to line the walls of my blood vessels in grease, I want it to taste good going in, at least. Immediately afterwards, I went upstairs to take a nap.
When I woke up, he said he had to call his mother. Nothing unusual: she's in China right now, so of course he had to check in with her frequently. He spoke in rapid Mandarin, which I don't understand at all. Halfway through, he started heading downstairs, and motioned for me to follow him. I guessed that he would feel lonely going down by himself, aww, or something cute like that, so I went along.
When he got to the kitchen, he picked up a Pizza Hut napkin from the trash, put it on the stove, and...
Turned.
On.
The stovetop.
I gaped and made WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK hand gestures, but he didn't respond at all. Meanwhile, he went on babbling in Mandarin.
Then he went down to the basement and motioned for me to follow. At this point, I was thinking, OH SHIT OH SHIT IS THIS THE POINT WHERE I FIND OUT MY BOYFRIEND IS A PSYCHO AND TOMORROW OUR MURDER-SUICIDE WILL BE ON THE FRONT PAGE OH SHI--
He went out to the parking lot quickly, returned, then headed back up to the kitchen. I still had no idea what was going on, so I just followed him.
The napkin was smoldering now. Then it BURST INTO FLAMES. He watched it calmly while sounding like he was trying to shoo his mom off the phone.
I didn't even know anymore. So I just said: "hey, be careful not to set off the fire alarm." He went over to turn on the exhaust. The floor was filled with the sweet smell of burning. Eventually, the flame died out; he got out a fork from the dishwasher and prodded the remnants of the napkin into the stove.
Finally, he turned off the phone, then ran to me and cried like a kid (half-jokingly). Apparently, he had killed a cockroach earlier with the Pizza Hut napkin, but he was afraid that he hadn't done it thoroughly enough, so the only option was to KILL IT WITH FIRE. I asked him if this was something that people from Jinan did with bugs, like how my late grandfather's nurse from... I don't remember where... would microwave old books to disinfect them, but he said no, he was just really afraid of cockroaches.
I told him he'd love Hong Kong, where the cockroaches are three inches long.