Mike and the Chinese Food

Somehow, some way, that year we had the apartment we became default hostesses. Neither of us could ever turn away a friend who wanted to come over and hang out, or even spend the night. We often wondered what the neighbors must think of us, because most of our friends were guys and so there was a constant parade of men - lots of different men - in and out of our place at all hours, and many overnight. It was actually only rarely that any of them were "involved" with either of us, but to a casual observer... it's one of those things that make you go "hmmmmmmmm."

One frequent visitor was "Mike from North Dakota." That was how we did, and still do, refer to him. Mike had a thing for Miah, though nothing ever really "went on" as far as that was concerned. Mike also apparently had a thing for the leftovers in our refrigerator... our strawberry water... and our cable TV. Unlike most of our guests, who at least called before they showed up, Mike would just wait until he knew we should be home from work (usually after midnight) and then show up, knocking on our door. It never crossed our minds to actually not answer the door; that just wouldn't be us. Instead, we grudgingly let him in every time. He also had a bad habit of turning on "Beavis & Butthead" when he came in. We were both usually struggling to do homework and not really watching the TV per se, but we both despised that show and it grated on our nerves. But everything came to a head the night he ate the Chinese food.

As I said, he liked to raid the fridge. Normally, that would have been marginally acceptable. But this time, we had Chinese food leftovers. And let's face it - Chinese food leftovers are sacred. Everyone knows that. Except Mike, who rummaged around in the fridge, popped something into the microwave... and suddenly was sitting on the folded-out sofa bed, where I was lying on my stomach trying to do homework, with a plate full of the food of the gods. I was fuming. Miah could see it, but didn't know how bad it would get. They were closer than he and I were, so she tolerated more from him, though I could tell she was ticked about the food too. Poor guy, though... because it also happened that my bangs were just a little too long, so long that they were falling into my face, and each time I would try to brush them back, they'd fall right into my eyes again, making it impossible for me to study.

So here I am, lying on the couch trying to do homework... full day of school and full night of work both behind and ahead of me... Beavis & Butthead on the TV... and Mike, sitting there oblivious, eating our Chinese food... hair falling in my eyes... and finally, I just broke. (Those of you who know me, know that I have endless patience, right up until the second I lose it, and then all hell rather suddenly and violently breaks loose.) I jumped off the bed, shooting Mike a look with such ice I'm sure something shriveled, and stalked into the kitchen... then stalked out with a wicked-looking pair of scissors. Miah told me later that Mike apparently feared for his life, and even SHE feared for his life. Instead, a stomped past him and into the bathroom, where I proceeded to chop my bangs so short they really didn't exist anymore. I stalked back out, threw the scissors down on the kitchen counter, flopped back down on the sofa bed, and went back to my studying.

Mike quietly got up, turned off the TV, put his plate in the sink, and left the room. That was the last time Mike spent the night; in fact, it was the last time he came over at all. But what can I say? Some things MUST be respected, and Chinese food is one of them.