The Lost Boys

Of the many things I suck at, being an adult is at the top of the list.  I don’t own a vacuum—or any non-plastic dishes for that matter.  My grocery list is mainly comprised of generic sugary cereal (in a bag) and hot dogs.  My plans tonight involve German Chocolate cake and re-watching How to Train Your Dragon.  I was absent on the day the “Being an Adult” lecture was taught at all three of the colleges I attended (So, what?  I missed a lot of days.  Don’t judge me.)  But no matter how bad I am at being an adult, I’m always reassured by those who fail harder at it than me.  They make me feel like there is still a chance for me.  They, however, are likely screwed, at least until thirty-five or so.

My favorite measuring stick of maturity would have to be my boyfriend’s current roommates, who I affectionately refer to as “The Lost Boys”.  These are not your typical directionless man-children—these are four homeless people that just happen to have a home.  When boyfriend got sick of being the only to purchase toilet paper, ”The Lost Boys” simply went without, for almost a month, until the toilet rebelled against their use of various fast food restaurant napkins.  Amongst the house of five, there are only two vehicles, neither of which are registered with the DMV or have insurance, one of which has a vanity license plate that reads “ZmbSlyr” (I date its owner) and a bike.  There is a pile of garbage in the kitchen that has grown to such epic proportions it now resembles Marjory the Trash Heap from Fraggle Rock, except with more pizza boxes and beer bottles.  Quite frankly, I’m shocked every time I go into that room that it hasn’t become sentient and started giving advice such as “Clean this shit up.  Even I’m embarrassed to live here and I’m a Trash Heap!” 

Despite their housekeeping shortcomings, I find that I actually care about the health and well being of “The Lost Boys”.  It’s impossible not to, particularly if you have any human compassion what-so-ever (I previously had thought I was devoid of such faults, but apparently not).  Amongst their endearing qualities is their willingness to share everything they have with anyone who walks in the door.  The downside of this, as boyfried/ZmbSlyr has found, is that they expect the same in return, whether or not you partake in whatever they offer.  This has caused him to do such things as hide Ramen under his pillow and lock his toilet paper in the trunk of his car.

They’re also a rather entertaining bunch, if you can stomach watching a roach being mercilessly slaughtered with a Nerf gun or enjoy seeing two grown men argue over a game of Magic the Gathering.  The other night, for example, I heard one of The Lost Boys, who was trying to explain the kind of stupid things he says while drunk, actually utter the words “Well, if the women were on fire, then the men would put the out.  And then we’d get our dicks sucked and make pie.”  Yeah, it didn’t make any sense then and it still doesn’t now.

A few days ago ZmbSlyr returned to their two-bedroom hobo home to find out that the water had been turned off due to lack of payment.  A bill that would have effectively cost them around $30 a month had turned into a roughly $65 ordeal plus a $60 reactivation fee.  In addition, “someone” had “stolen” the trashcan, which I secretly believe to be code for “we forgot to pay that, too”, but I’ve been wrong before.  I just can’t imagine why someone would want to steal anything The Lost Boys own.  That’s a good way to catch something prehistorically detrimental to your health.  Only a pterodactyl or one of The Lost Boys themselves could survive the diseases that cling to certain objects in that house.  Frankly, I’m surprised I’m not dead yet.

The funniest part of the incident had to be ZmbSlyr’s minor breakdown over the event.  He likes running water, clean things, and not having to ask the Trash Heap monster to move its rather large ass so he can get into the fridge.  This is probably why he usually stays at my place.

“How can you not pay something as small as a water bill, but afford a new video game?” 

I believed this to be a rhetorical question, so I didn’t bother answering.  Secretly, I was reveling in the fact that, even if I’m not an adult, my water/electricity/cable/trash pick has never been terminated.  I’m not an adult, but I”m not an idiot either.  Of course, men don’t have the option of hooking to pay the bills, so that might be a harsh judgement.

“And seriously, what the fuck?!  This happened last year around the same time.  What do they think October is? Water Conservation month?  Is this really how they want to celebrate Halloween?  By all smelling so bad the house becomes a place of nightmares?”

 At this point, I’m giggling so hard I’m having trouble breathing.  This always causes me to gasp for air, making noises similar to Goofy, which my boyfriend says are “endearing”.  (I believe this is code for “I don’t think I can do better than you because I have terminally low self-esteem).

“You mean they do this regularly?”  I managed to choke out.

“Oh yeah.  Seriously, October is No-Water month to these people.  Last year it was so bad E’s girlfriend had to take a shit behind the barn cause we could flush the toilet.”

“She what?”

“Had to take a shit in the woods.  Multiple times.  This is why I can objectively say that, yeah, she’s attractive, but I could never date her.  I mean the girl shit in the woods behind a barn, rather than ride up the street to a civilized bathroom.  She’s like a wild animal or something.”

“So, there’s just piles of human shit out behind the barn?”  As you can see, I’m sometimes rather slow on the uptake.

“Well, not now.  Shit decomposes pretty quickly.  But, yeah, there was.  Like I said, a wild animal.”

So, to my boyfriend’s friends and acquaintances, I would like to thank you.  While I may be maturity repellent, you always manage to make me feel like a well-rounded, functional adult.  Now, excuse me.  I do believe it's time for my nap.