TIFU
(Both Steven and Tony have full time jobs at 8am)
Steven: What time is it?
Jerry: 1.
Steven: 1?!?
Jerry: WAIT NO. 12.
Tony: WAIT WHAT TIME IS IT?!?
Jerry: ...I f-ed up, it's 1. Sorry guys.
So after getting into a larger room and settling in, I have come to the conclusion that my roommates fit into the classical classifications of states of matter. Without further ado, here’s why:
Solid: Jerry. His stuff doesn’t move. Like ever. Heck, I’d doubt he actually lived here except for the fact that he’s a hermit and never leaves the room.
Liquid: Steven. Now Steven’s stuff, on the other hand, is more alive. Sure some of it’s on the floor, but hey, roomful of guys – what did you expect? Now his stuff moves around a bit. Not too much, so I guess it’s a viscous liquid.
Gas: Jeff. Now let me tell you, this dude’s stuff is just downright creepy. When we first moved in, it was all confined to his part of the room. No complaints there. Then the guitar comes out. Ehh, it’s not horrible. Then clothes. Meh, roomful of guys. Then more clothes. A hamper. TWO hampers. Sound recording equipment. But then he vacuumed and we can see the carpet aga–NOPE CAN’T SEE CARPET. Seriously, this dude’s stuff is like a gas: it spreads to occupy all visible space.
Yep, basic chemistry lesson for all’s ya'lls out there.
Wait, what was that? What about…plasma.
Welp.
Of course, that’s me. Cause I'm hot.
–Panda