This was a random idea I came up with for my roommate essay. I had very mixed reviews- many people loved it, but my counselor and parents both advised against submitting it because it would be too risky/stupid. I'm probably not submitting it, but I just wanted to see what people think. I'd appreciate any honest opinions, criticism, whatever- thanks!
Dear roommate,
There's one thing you should know about me before we move in together: I kill baby kittens.
Well to be honest, by baby kittens I mean one baby kitten. I had just gotten my license. The magnitude of this accomplishment was heightened by the fact that it had taken me four tries to pass. Proudly wielding my temporary license, I marched to the car, eager to finally shake off the chains of dependence on my parents to drive me everywhere. My mom stood in the driveway watering the garden and smiling proudly as she watched me back out of the driveway. I got to the street, prepared to drive into oblivion, when I realized that something was wrong, horribly wrong.
My mom had a look upon her face as if she were watching a baby kitten agonizingly die a slow and painful death, when alas! I saw a baby kitten rolling around on my driveway dying a slow and painful death. The little ball of fur couldn't be more than a couple pounds and it was shaking as if it had just been electrocuted. I looked at my mom, who was still mortified, then back at the kitten and panicked. Not knowing what to do, I drove off.
My mind was instantly flooded with thoughts. How cruel and fleeting this life is. This poor, innocent kitten had been doomed simply by its poor sense of awareness and choice to sleep under my car. One could call it a victim of fate, a casualty of natural selection, but I could not shake the fact that I, Nathaniel Shak, was a kitten slayer.
When I got home, my mom, my sisters, and I continued to mourn this poor kitten. All until my dad came home. One of the first comments out of his mouth was, "Is it still fresh? We don't have dinner yet."
What followed was a hostile reaction by the rest of my family to my dad followed by much laughter and an eventual degradation of our conversation into a long series of cat jokes.
Eventually, the topic of my feline incident became inescapable. Everywhere I went, people would comment on my "purrfect" driving or ask about the big catastrophe. "Are you kitten me?" one friend asked, to which others responded, "yea, he's fur real".
God rest that poor kitten's soul, but it taught me a valuable lesson about myself. I can find laughter from the most uncommon of sources, including the tragic death of a baby kitten, as sad as that sounds. Life is dull and boring when things are taken too seriously. Laughter is my elixir of life and I love finding the humor in everything. My friends say I'm easy going and enjoy poking fun at me, but this usually just provides me with more entertainment. As the next year goes on, you will find that your roommate is a laid-back, laughter-loving kitten slayer.
Dear roommate,
There's one thing you should know about me before we move in together: I kill baby kittens.
Well to be honest, by baby kittens I mean one baby kitten. I had just gotten my license. The magnitude of this accomplishment was heightened by the fact that it had taken me four tries to pass. Proudly wielding my temporary license, I marched to the car, eager to finally shake off the chains of dependence on my parents to drive me everywhere. My mom stood in the driveway watering the garden and smiling proudly as she watched me back out of the driveway. I got to the street, prepared to drive into oblivion, when I realized that something was wrong, horribly wrong.
My mom had a look upon her face as if she were watching a baby kitten agonizingly die a slow and painful death, when alas! I saw a baby kitten rolling around on my driveway dying a slow and painful death. The little ball of fur couldn't be more than a couple pounds and it was shaking as if it had just been electrocuted. I looked at my mom, who was still mortified, then back at the kitten and panicked. Not knowing what to do, I drove off.
My mind was instantly flooded with thoughts. How cruel and fleeting this life is. This poor, innocent kitten had been doomed simply by its poor sense of awareness and choice to sleep under my car. One could call it a victim of fate, a casualty of natural selection, but I could not shake the fact that I, Nathaniel Shak, was a kitten slayer.
When I got home, my mom, my sisters, and I continued to mourn this poor kitten. All until my dad came home. One of the first comments out of his mouth was, "Is it still fresh? We don't have dinner yet."
What followed was a hostile reaction by the rest of my family to my dad followed by much laughter and an eventual degradation of our conversation into a long series of cat jokes.
Eventually, the topic of my feline incident became inescapable. Everywhere I went, people would comment on my "purrfect" driving or ask about the big catastrophe. "Are you kitten me?" one friend asked, to which others responded, "yea, he's fur real".
God rest that poor kitten's soul, but it taught me a valuable lesson about myself. I can find laughter from the most uncommon of sources, including the tragic death of a baby kitten, as sad as that sounds. Life is dull and boring when things are taken too seriously. Laughter is my elixir of life and I love finding the humor in everything. My friends say I'm easy going and enjoy poking fun at me, but this usually just provides me with more entertainment. As the next year goes on, you will find that your roommate is a laid-back, laughter-loving kitten slayer.