Help! Do I Have a Bad Roommate Or Is He Nyarlathotep, the Crawling Chaos?

  • Every night he invites his weird friends over to sing a cappella in Eldritch tongues that were not made for the human mouth, and it’s getting really annoying. They’re not even in sync half the time.
  • When I ask him to keep it down, he just laughs at me and says [SOUND OF A MILLION PLAGUE-BEARING MOSQUITOES BUZZING IN TERRIFYING UNISON]. I think this is uncalled for.
  • One night, my tomato juice was replaced with the blood of a 10,000-year-old Egyptian priest. My roommate says it was Azathoth, the Blind God Who Dreamed The Universe. I say he is a liar liar pants on fire.
  • When I accidentally ate a slice of pizza he’d been saving in the minifridge, he conjured an image in my mind’s eye of a vision of alien oceans, filled with unspeakable terrors that tore at my sanity and left me a gibbering wreck, forever cursed with demonic knowledge of which I could never be permitted to speak. This, I need hardly say, was a dick move.
  • He bakes cookies on occasion. That is nice of him.
  • You know, despite our disagreements, he and I get along pretty well, and I think we’re really becoming pals. After all, as he often says, [SOUND OF A CHILLING WIND BLOWING ACROSS THE DECAYING CORPSE THAT CONTAINED ANY SMIDGEN OF HOPE THE HUMAN RACE EVER HAD].

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