Just Roommates

Clothing and Random Compliments

   I looked into the mirrors on my closet and contorting my body to see every possible flaw. My jeans had been laundered recently and didn't have any odd stains on them. I was wearing a white button-up shirt with a pattern of small animal silhouettes. It was the cleanest piece of my ensemble, freshly ironed. Although my hair was unkempt, as usual, I looked as put-together I could get while still being casual. My mother planned a check-up dinner and I wanted to show her that I wasn't falling apart at the seams. I could've gotten ready later, but I hate being late. So, I had an hour to kill. Off into the other room I hear the door open. Frank was home. Since I had nothing better to do, I decide to see how he's doing.

"Hey, oh Buddy Pal." I swung the door open with all of me.

Frank jumped out of his skin and yelled, "Shit-balls!" Scaring Frank was never my intention. Oh well, it did make for a funny reaction.

"Shit-balls?" I questioned his unusual use of profanity.

"Can't a guy cuss how he wants to cuss?" He asked, trying to catch wind again. After that there was about two seconds of wide-eye staring and chest clutching from Frank before he spoke again. "Ya know, Mr. Way, you look quite stunning." He had slipped back into his 50's movie star shtick. His eyes were staring into my soul, but his lips formed a playful smirk. He had started doing this more and more often. Poco a poco. At first I couldn't tell if he was serious or not. While the lines were still blurred at times, I could always tell. I had always played along. Never once responding in a serious, nonchalant, or sarcastic manner. It had been playful every time, despite the mood of the surrounding conversation. Being his Bette Davis was a blast from the (inaccurate) past.

"Do I look like a presentable human being?" I ask, doing a slow spin.

"You look like an innocent kindergarten teacher in the streets, but a slut in the sheets." His words were so inappropriate for his tone of voice it was actually comical.

"Well, hopefully my mother doesn't see the sheets. That's for some lucky gals with perfect gams."

Frank bit his bottom lip and looked down. It only lasted a nanosecond, yet it was still long enough for me to pick up on. "What are you so dressed up for, anyways?" He quit the pretense.

"Mama Way wanted to see how her baby boy is doing." Right after I said that I cringed.

"Let's hope Mama Way approves of his raging homosexual roommate," Frank joked awkwardly.

I rolled my eyes and bluntly stated, "You are a homosexual. But, your badassery outweighs your homosexuality."

"I am a man born from the counterculture," Frank spoke through a smirk. It was as if he was proud of himself for sounding like his obituary. "Anyways, I gotta go get out of these rags." He glided over to his room and shut the door. Bringing me back to mine. Gee, it sure was funny how a man that was born from the counterculture worked at Michael's. Perhaps the most radical thing a person could do is conform. Fuck. There I was, back at it again with the bullshit conclusions.