Photo: Mercy

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I wake up to a rather violent sneezing attack, and I'm wondering if this is the beginning of a cold or just the dirt from my bed lodging itself in my sinuses. Usually I'm pretty good at keeping the sneezes to a sequence of two or three, but I just beat my record with eight. My lungs hurt and I'm actually getting angry at the incessant violent expulsions of air from my tight nasal ducts.

"Shuddup!" a muffled groan sounds from across the room. As if I want to be sneezing my brains out.

In between sneezing, I look over to see a tangle of hair, limbs, and sheets. It's actually a bit disturbing how the girl sleeps that way. It reminds me of those possessed children in horror movies with arms and legs bent and twisted unnaturally as they crawl across the ceiling. The only difference is that Mercy isn't actually on the ceiling.

I'm just trying to figure out how she got her leg that high and how the hay she could possibly find it comfortable. She's gotta be struggling to breathe with the way her body's folded in half, but you'd never know with the power erupting from her mouth with each lung-shriveling snore. And she thinks I'm an ugly sleeper.

I sneeze my way to the bathroom, sneeze my way through a shower, sneeze my way into getting dressed, and then throw myself onto Mercy's bed where I continue sneezing next to her pillow-smothered head until her deranged foot kicks me to the floor. I'm impressed that her foot is able to find me without the help of her vision. Another indication that she's possessed.

The sneezes finally subside just in time for me to head to class, which is unfortunate because I was so hoping I was coming down with something contagious and would have to skip. Great news, though... it's Thursday, which is basically Friday for me since I have no classes tomorrow. Oh, life is good.

Class goes by quickly as Ms. Garrison introduces us to Freud and all his barbaric ideas. I'm a bit spacey though because my mind is swarming with plans. I have to get Mercy back somehow. This war has just started. She will not win. I'll fight 'til my final breath, and then I'll come back and haunt her until her final breath, just so we can continue this battle in the afterlife. The fight will live on.

"... and then we filled balloons up with baby oil and dropped them from the roof."

I blink, snapping back into the present. Trevor's sitting casually in his chair, twirling a pencil between his fingers.

"Thought that'd get your attention," he remarks with an arrogant smirk.

"That's a fantastic idea!" I gush, still not one hundred percent focused on him, as he has just sparked a whole heap of new ideas. "We could totally use that. Like, I dunno, fill her shoes with baby oil, or her shampoo bottles, or... Baha!" I laugh as another idea pops out my mouth. "What if..." I'm laughing too hard at my idiotic plan to even get it out, and it's not even funny. "What if we, like, fill her toothpaste tube with lotion, or..." It's then I see the look on Trevor's face and come to a halt. "What? You don't think those are good ideas?"

"Well, I might if I knew what the heck you're talking about," he states.

"My roommate," I respond, as if he should already know this. "We're in the midst of a full-fledged war, and you, my man, have just stepped right into the heart of it." I snicker wickedly, going so far as to throw my head back and laugh at the ceiling.

Looks like becoming friends with Trevor has opened up a whole new level of stupid on my part. I'm guessing by the look on his face that he's thinking the same thing. I probably look something similar to a werewolf wailing at the moon.

"You're weird." His expression doesn't change.

I sigh, fully disappointed that he hasn't caught on.

"Okay," I say, as if I'm speaking to an earless three-year-old alien. "My roommate has been destroying my bed by peeing on it and putting..." I stop. "Wait, no..."

"Peeing on it? She peed on it?" He looks genuinely worried about her level of sanity.

"No!" I'm going to combust.

Guys blame their stupidity on the fact that they can't multi-task. Well, newsflash, most girls can't either. Or at least, I can't. Not at all. I can't even sing and shower at the same time because I end up washing my hair about three times. So, Trevor's already ahead of me there with his Katy Perry fetish.

He's trying to grasp what I'm talking about, but he doesn't understand that I can't catch him up to speed on where my mind is going while simultaneously planning my retaliation on Mercy. I decide to put my scheming on hold a moment for his benefit and begin explaining the pee situation in agonizing detail. I need to get a step ahead.

"Hmmm." He appears thoughtful once I've finished.

I'm heaving air into my lungs because I literally tried to enlighten him of the situation all in one breath, and it was nearly fatal.

"Okay," he says. "So, your ideas are a bit juvenile."

"Thanks."

"After class, you're coming with me."

"Oh. Goody!" I sound like a child. "Where we going?"

"Out."

"Your communication skills are impressive," I tell him. "So descriptive and enlightening."

Trevor doesn't respond or even look at me as he turns his attention down to a paper on his desk.

"Whatcha doing?" I inquire.

"Same thing you should be doing," he replies without lifting his head.

"Uh..." I'm scanning the paper as the word dies slowly into a whisper. I don't even know what I'm looking at. It's like I'm reading a different language. On top of the dirt in my sheets, I'm wondering if Mercy may have drugged me too because the way I'm acting today is just not normal.

"Fine," Trevor exhales dramatically.

I eye him as if he's just transformed into Kangaroo Jack. I'm waiting for him to elaborate but he just continues on with his worksheet.

"Fine what?" I don't handle suspense well, especially in movies. It's like my mouth runs away from my brain, and I just start spouting question after question. Unfortunately, this tactic didn't work on Trevor last night because he'd already seen the movie and said he'd tie my hands to my feet, glue my mouth shut, and then mummify my head with tape if I asked one more question.

"Fine, I'll share my brilliant plan with you." He shifts in his seat to face me. "But, you must not tell a soul."

I mime zipping my lips shut.

"It involves plastic wrap," he whispers.

"How original," I snort.

"What?" He sounds more shocked than offended.

"We're not putting it on the toilet seat," I groan, unimpressed by his lack of creativity.

"Oh, ye of little faith." He reaches over to rub the top of my head as if I'm a Pomeranian pup.

I slap him in the back of the head. "Don't touch the hair unless you want to meet my alter ego," I warn. "Maddie is not nice."

He pulls his hand away as if my hair just burst into flames. I smile victoriously.

"She's got soft hair," he fawns.

"Compliments will not win her over."

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Have you ever pranked your roommate (or friend, family member... etc)? I'd LOVE to hear your stories. :D

And don't forget to vote if you enjoyed this chapter. :p