(Schottler)

I need a roommate who is going to bring some joy into my life. Somebody to keep me company and away from self-harm. I really don't know how it got to this. A 47-year-old man making balloon animals at children's parties. Those ridiculous shoes and that stupid fucking painted-on smile. When a child is on my lap I want to rip his arm off and beat him with the wet end and then chew his mother's jugular out. People expect me to be so happy all the time. Little do they know that I spend every night alone drinking gin, smoking pot and honking my bicycle horn into the void. I'm such a failure. Nothing makes you feel more like a loser than getting booed off stage by a bunch of 5-year-olds. And when I say stage, I mean somebody's living room. Everybody thinks I'm either a pervert or a serial killer. What happened to my dreams? I was supposed to be a Vinewood star or at least a bit-part extra on a badly-acted sitcom. Anything but this. Will you be my roommate? My apartment is a fairly depressing place - I tend to go with the just-been-burgled look - but it has a lot of potential. All it needs is the touch of somebody who's not full of hate. Nobody wants to know the person behind the red nose.



PostingID: 962022333