To My Dear Unconscious Friend
You’re now asleep on my floor.
I know what you ate. I see the wrappers beside you.
You ate my brownies. My special brownies.
The ones my friend makes for me which work oh so well at easing those nasty pre-final jitters, and which allow me, thankfully, to sleep through the night when stress and panic would rob me of needed sleep. The fact that I can maintain nearly a 4.0 cumulative GPA argues in favor of the blessed grass of bliss... no brainless pot-head am I, oh no. Hell, if pot were responsible for my present place in life, I’d say more Americans need to do it. Anyway...
To my dear friend who is currently asleep...
I won’t shave your eyebrows.
I won’t draw things on your face.
I won’t play “drop the body part,” no matter how amusing it is to watch your limbs bounce lifelessly against the carpet.
I will not shove things up your nose.
I will not tickle your feet while you mumble helplessly for me to stop.
I will, however, take pictures of you. I will keep these pictures, especially the one with the drool, and will use them to my advantage when I need you to do things for me. Like open pickle jars, and keep my door from going squeark.
I’m a good friend, you know. You’ve no idea how good a friend I am.
You brownie thief. Next time, follow directions. “Don’t eat this” means, simply enough, “don’t eat this”.
Don’t steal my food. If you pee your pants in your sleep because you’re too sleepy to use the toilet, I will take pictures of this too.
I’ve got a digital camera and I’m not afraid to use it.