“Where do you wanna go for dinner?”
“I dunno.”
“What about that Indian food place just off I-95?”
“Too spicy.”
“Oh, you’re so boring! It’s fun! It’s like a rollercoaster. But in your mouth.”
“A rollercoaster? More like a one-way ticket to indigestion and regret.”
“Well, you know what they say, “No pain, no gain!” What about Taco Bell? We could have the glory of eating Taco Bell!”
“What about the agony of spending the whole night on the toilet? Not much glory there, or dignity.”
“Dude. You’re no fun!”
“Fine. I’ll consider it, but only if you bring the antacid tablets.”
“C’mon. Let’s do something fun, roomie!”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Absolutely NOT.”
“Why?”
“Because your fun isn’t.”
“Isn’t what?”
“Isn’t fun.”
“Really?”
“Really. Whenever we go out I immediately regret it.”
“No.”
“Yep.”
“C’mon. Just try it.”
“You have the boundaries of a squirrel with rabies. Whenever you want to have fun, we end up breaking things. Like laws. Especially laws. And boy’s hearts. Windows, too, on more than one occasion.”
“That’s not true!”
“Yes it is. You remember last time?”
“Yes. It was fun.”
“It was pure hell”
“I think you mean pure fun. It wasn’t my fault.”
“The fist fight, the car chase, or the car accident?”
“No.”
“No?”
“None of it was my fault.”
“How can you even say that?”
“Easily. The words just pop right out of my mouth.”
“How can you even think that?”
“Logical deductive reasoning. You should try it.”
“It was all your fault! Including vomiting in your ex’s car!”
“Beer and lemonade are terrible together.”
“Ridiculous! You aren’t even of age!”
“I was a victim of circumstance.”
“You walked into your ex’s apartment with the keys you never gave back to him, punched him squarely in the face, then stole his car and his girlfriend.”
“That was fun.”
“She called the police!”
“Only ‘cos you were getting hysterical. We were getting along fine!”
“We barely got away, you lunatic! Your ex literally brought the wrestling team!”
“But we got away; that’s the main thing.”
“You need to get away from me.”
“How would I do that? We live together. Quit being so boring.”
“Boring is good. Boring is safe. Boring people stay out of jail. Boring people live long enough to fall in love and get married.”
“Boring is crippling. You’ve been sitting on your butt all day in front of your sad, stupid phone in this depressing little room. Get a clean shirt on and get moving. Actually, I’ll throw on one of your clean shirts. Mine smells like the middle school girl’s locker room.”
“No.”
“C’mon.”
“Last time was the last straw. You need serious counseling. And stop wearing my clean shirts and stealing my food.”
“No promises. Sometimes I just need to eat your Hot Pockets and wear your clothes because they look way better on me.”
“You suck. You’re a terrible roommate.”
“Terrible beats boring. Let’s have some fun!”
“Nope. I was terrified the entire time. You smashed mailboxes with a baseball bat while I was sprinting home. Was that not your fault either?”
“That was just a spontaneous response to stimuli.”
“Response to stimuli? What did the mailboxes do to you that they needed that smashing?”
“They did. Scientific experiment.”
“Indulge me, please. What is the science behind decapitating mailboxes in a small quiet college town? You realize one of those mailboxes belonged to the registrar.”
“He was the one I was going for. We had a disagreement this summer. Lab fees or…”
“What scientific theory did you want to test other than practicing your follow-through?”
“What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”
“Vandalism.”
“Sure. I mean, it’s just science.”
“Just you being a jerk.”
“None of it was foretold; therefore, none of it was my fault in the least.”
“You are pathological. Probably clinically insane.”
“No, I’m quite sane.”
“Then a psychopath.”
“Probably.”
“Impulsive, emotionally cold, remorseless…”
“Check, check, and check!”
“Why do I still live with you?”
“Because I’m fun!”
“Not fun. Dangerous.”
“Same thing.”
“Admit that that night was all your fault.”
“I made some impulsive decisions, but it wasn’t all my fault.”
“Grand theft auto? Assault and battery? Kidnapping?”
“Fun!”
“No. Fun isn’t racking up three felonies.”
“Fun isn’t typing up a 1600-word essay for Business Studies.”
“You sure are rocking it with your 2.0 GPA.”
“Come on.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No. Noooo. No-no-no.”
“Please. You have superior knowledge of human behavior and patterns. With that we can definitely meet some people.”
“I’ve taken twelve credit hours of sociology, so lower the bar. I’m a college sophomore with $17.00 left until the end of the month. I doubt boys will be lining up to talk about Maslow’s Hierachy of Needs.”
“$17.00 plus my bankroll is enough to buy us a great time.”
“For a total of…”
“$17.00. But I know where to get beer.”
“Don’t get beer! And don’t say the kegs behind the fraternity house.”
“The kegs behind the fraternity house.”
“Shut up. They said they’d kill us if they found us there again.”
“Only one way to find out!”
“Coming. Wait up.”