The Voices Demons have railed against the fact that I have a roof over my head, and am in loving possession of my cat, Scratchen. It has been their oft-stated goal to render me homeless, at all costs; and, last night, was their latest attempt to oust me by police intervention. The story, as posted on Google+ : A crazed Victor Salazar, my new--but soon-to-be former--roommate, burst through our chain-locked front door tonight in a fury of explitives, as if the demons plaguing every corner of the house weren't enough. His excuse: he doesn't like the front door to be locked. He said that it was immature of me to use it, and that no one is going to rob us. As his tirade continued, which consisted of more ranting, further raving, and the occasional lunge preceded by a fighting stance, I called the cops. Long story short: the cops make him leave the apartment for the night, and the landlord, who mysteriously shows up out of nowhere, asks me to leave permanently. ...
My inevitable demise, daily.