They say you really get to know a person when you have to share a space with them. They either become a new best friend or a sworn enemy. These particularly unfortunate people lived with some of the most disgustingly odd human beings out there and somehow survived. These are their horror stories. Content has been edited for clarity.

"The Walls Shook And He Kept Screaming"
"The Walls Shook And He Kept Screaming"

"Shortly after a really big breakup following a move to another city, I had to move out in a rush. I was working a couple part-time jobs that paid pretty poorly, so I rented a garage for $300 a month. The guys I rented it from where a little rough around the edges, but they seemed like nice enough people. The roommates lived in the two bedrooms in the house, and I could only get to the bathroom by going through someone's bedroom. It was far from ideal, but bearable. The garage had enough space for storing my belongings from the last-second move, which seemed pretty handy.

One of the roommates’ life consisted of painting houses, drinking heavily, and video games. His entire life revolved around that game, so he'd only paint houses when rent was almost due, and he'd work just enough to afford rent and drinks. His mother would come around to buy his food for him. He was supposedly in AA, and would brag to anybody who visited that he was 6 months sober, but there was a massive pile of incriminating cans under his gaming desk. He was actually a nice enough guy, but he was lazy and always crying about how unfair life is. I was going to school full-time while working full-time. He'd tell me every time we got into a conversion how worthless an education was and criticized me for getting grants and tax credits to help pay for it. He called me a parasite. Other times, he'd tell me I was his only real friend.

The other roommate had a bit of a jittery vibe when I met him, but he was always very positive and energetic. He'd frequently be doing some random project around the house or outside. He once put a lawn mower engine and a steering wheel onto a bar stool and made it into a little vehicle to drive around at parties. He made stuff like this because he didn't have a job and was always antsy to keep busy. His mom was a wealthy lawyer who would mail him enough money each month to pay rent, food, drinks, and whatever else he wanted. One of his regular purchases was lots and lots of crack. Her money was designed to keep him from stealing stuff as often. I still once found a stack of wallets in his waste bin.

Fast-forward to a couple months of weird behavior, he started getting even weirder. He'd borrow things and give them back slightly damaged. He'd walk around talking to and responding to himself, then telling himself to shut up. I'd ask who he was talking to, and he'd either laugh without responding or say something confusing. He'd sit in his room moaning for hours, even screaming every now and then.

Twice I caught him in the garage staring at me sleeping. I woke up and asked him what he was doing, and he said he was just waiting for me to wake up so he could ask me a question. I told him to get out. The second time I woke up ready to chew him out, he just asked the question. He wanted to borrow a laser I owned so he could make designs on the wall in his room. I gave it to him and told him to never do that again.

At this point, I was saving cash to get away from the weirdness and I was almost never home, except to sleep. I left for work each morning around six, so was up before the sun often. On one of those mornings, the weird roommate had left his door open and was sitting up in bed moaning, without any clothing on, surrounded by huge piles of balled-up tissues. Some were covered in blood.

His chest, arms, and legs were covered in blood. I opened a cupboard in the kitchen to get a piece of fruit for the road, and he heard me, but thought the noise was coming from the joint bathroom. Instead of reacting like a normal person and putting clothes on or closing his door, he jumped straight up and screamed for several seconds, then shouted, 'Who is that?!'

He sounded terrified, but he wasn't even looking in my direction. He thought the noise came from the restroom. He went on screaming threats as he ran and body-slammed the restroom door, then he opened it and went inside, still screaming. I heard crashes and banging noises, the walls shook, and he just kept screaming. I was barely on schedule to get to work on time, so I just left.

When I got home late that night, nobody was home and I went to the restroom. In the restroom, the roommate had broken the shower head off the wall, then tore out about two dozen tiles and the drywall behind them. I assume he did so because he thought the person making a noise that morning was hiding in the wall. There was blood everywhere. He had torn his hands on the tiles and bled all over the floor, then splattered it all up and down the walls for some reason.

I never entered that restroom again except once to grab my shampoo. I showered at the school gym each day that week, urinated in the side yard when I was home to sleep. I quickly signed a lease for a studio apartment then moved out.

I stayed Facebook friends with the other roommate for a year or so, until I posted a photo of myself graduating and getting accepted to another college. He thought it was a perfect opportunity to comment on how beautiful my female friends are. Then when nobody responded, he wrote a few paragraphs on why I should be ashamed of graduating. Several friends started arguing with him and defending me. I removed him as a friend on Facebook before the situation escalated. He sent me a private message saying he would bash my head in with a rock.

I never saw either roommate again."

"The Aftermath Of The Most Bizarre Apocalypse Ever"
"The Aftermath Of The Most Bizarre Apocalypse Ever"

"Despite being a massive introvert, I had suite mates in my late teens. It made me realize how much I hate having roommates. I mostly stayed inside my room, for fear I walk into the lounge and come face to face with a person. But I had good cause to do so.

Incident A:

I had a suite mate who we didn't realize at first was a 'woman of the night'. She was lovely, but she had some bizarre clients. One client was a 40-something Nigerian man who flew to Scotland from London to spend the weekend with her. No big deal at first, she said he was a ‘friend’ and they went straight to her room and stayed in there all weekend. Around 1 a.m. one weekend, there was a knock on my door. To my horror it is the man again, who had somehow broken into our apartment. Exactly what I want to find in the middle of the night!

He tells me that my suite mate did not respond to knocking on her door. He claims his flight was cancelled, and he has to stay another night. Could he stay in my room instead? Nope! He gets a bit aggressive, so I direct him to wait in the lounge, grab a dressing gown, and hammered on my highly considerate flatmate’s door. I could hear her in there with another guy, and she doesn’t answer.

So I knocked on all my other flatmates doors and tell them the story. The four of us confronted him, telling him that we can’t get her to answer, and that he would have to get a hotel for tonight. He refused, wanting to stay with one of us. So we offered to let him stay on the couch, then promptly gathered in one of my other flatmates rooms and called security. Low and behold, it was the one night the security guard was off because of course he was.

To wrap it up, my other flatmate secretly held a lighter to the smoke alarm, so we all had to evacuate after the alarm sounded. My reclusive suite mate wandered out with guy no. 2 and awkwardly waited nearby outside. Our unwanted house guest must have seen them, because he bolted! Guess he suddenly found a flight to London he had to rush to catch.

Incident B:

Same bunch of girls. On an uneventful afternoon, one of them had bought a butternut squash, which for some reason they all found absolutely hilarious. Later that evening, I was locked up in my room in sweet, blissful solitude whilst a whole load of banging, crashing and maniacal laughter roared outside. More of a racket than usual. I finally opened the door when the noise died down. I had the strangest feeling that I had just entered a new type of purgatory.

It was like the aftermath of the most bizarre apocalypse ever. Bunches and bunches of shredded spring onions were all over the floor. All the walls and bedroom doors were spray painted with drawings of butternut squash. Making my way down the corridor, I found more torn up, stomped on fruit and vegetables. In fact, ALL the fruit and vegetables in the flat were destroyed in some kind of sacrifice.

No joke, there were at least twenty butternuts in the kitchen. Some were stabbed with pens. All of them were arranged in a circle, with the largest one in the middle donning a paper crown. Since then, I have really hated people."

Overwhelmed By A Disgusting Secret
Overwhelmed By A Disgusting Secret

"So my friend went through a messy divorce, during which she moved out of their house. No kids, but they did have pets they had to split up. She got the dogs, and he got the cats. I was having a hard time finding a place to rent in town, and my friend wanted someone to keep an eye on her ex-husband, who had a history of not caring for himself. She wanted me to move in and make sure he didn't hurt himself or the animals, and that he occasionally ate something. I got along with the ex-husband, so I thought this would be a good arrangement.

It started out well, but he quickly tired of my company. He saw me as her agent, making it difficult for us to communicate. I was sympathetic for a long time. I stocked the house with his favorite snacks, folded his laundry for him, and I even took over paying the bills when he forgot them. I took over the lease when I moved in. It was clear that he was not coping well.

He kept his two cats in his room with him and never changed their litter. The smell became bad enough that I went into his room while he was at work to change it. I was completely shocked when I opened the door. Never have I seen a more disgusting space. The air was so full of ammonia, I could barely breathe and my eyes watered. There were close to 50 dishes crusted with food littering the room, along with hundreds of food wrappers. I had given him a spare bed (the wife took his) with sheets and blankets; The sheets had fallen off, and the cats had given up on the litter box, completely ruining the mattress. He had clearly been sleeping on this bare, urine-soaked mattress.

I was overcome by pity, and I immediately felt guilt for not intervening sooner. So, I changed the litter, brushed his matted cats, washed the sheets and clothes, made the bed, removed the dishes and trash, vacuumed, and then kept my mouth shut, to avoid embarrassing him. He was furious. He didn't say a word to me. He just punched some stuff and yelled to himself.

So, I didn't do it again. When the same problem occurred again, I asked him to find a new place to live. One day, he just disappeared. He left most of his stuff, and even left his cats behind for a while. He stole some of my stuff in the process. Through mutual friends, I confirmed that he had found his own apartment. The space he left behind was completely trashed. I spent an entire week cleaning it, and I had to re-paint to cover the smell of ammonia. I packed up his stuff for him, held it for the required month, and then gave it to his ex-wife to store (at her request). He never finished paying me back. Never apologized. So I changed the locks, let the landlord know he had vacated, and removed his contact information from my phone. I still mostly feel pity for him, but I resent having been used. He needs help."

Who Was More Evil?
Who Was More Evil?

"My roommates and I had strange relationships. I think the issues were due to the fact that I've only lived with people who I've already been close friends with, which a lot of people will tell you is a big mistake. Perhaps the fact that I am an only child also helps. We had a fun time 'weirding each other out' as we called it. I found a lot of things in the apartment with no explanation. There was an orange traffic cone on my bed when I woke up one day. There was giant spider locked in my toilet with a sign nearby that said 'Ha ha!'. They refilled my water jug with strong spirits to make me sick after my jog.

What else could I do except for revenge pranks? I tucked a cheap blowup doll in my roommate's bed, perfectly timed so that the landlord would see it while he was showing her a problem with his air conditioner. I bought a live turkey and locked it in our house. I jam packed tons of balloons in my roommates' rooms, so they could barely get through their rooms. Finally, I turned all the lights out and wrapped fake police tape around the entrance to the house. They were both totally wasted when they came home. I've never seen someone run that fast or that clumsily."

He Lost It All In One Day
He Lost It All In One Day

Throughout college, I had lived by myself, and after much thought I decided to find some roommates. I landed on a guy that I knew somewhat well. Let’s call him K. He was a very close friend of a friend, and she’d asked me to look after him in college and make sure he stays on the straight and narrow. I was a senior at this point and he was just starting out, so she asked me to take him under my wing. I agreed and did my best to help the kid out. She would make me call him to make sure that he made it to class and wasn’t sleeping in his dorm. His levels of laziness and the general attitude was pretty remarkable.

Looking back, this guy should’ve been the last person I picked, but I made the stupid decision to live together. We found a third roommate who was pretty chill and had a better head on his shoulders, and we decided to move into a three-bedroom apartment. As I live with K, I realize just how much weed the kid smokes. I set clear house rules that no smoking happens in the house, and that they have to go out back if they want to do anything. K tells me that it’s too cold to go out, so he starts smoking out of the living room window. I’m extremely annoyed by this, but I try to understand how cold it is out and cut him some slack. Bad idea!

Soon, there are all sorts of people coming to the house at odd hours and hanging out. I remember waking up often in the middle of the night to the whole floor shaking from awful rap music blasting from the living room. The neighbors were blowing my phone up asking what on earth I was doing? I was starting off as a junior consultant at the time, so I was working my butt off and was extremely tired most days. One day I got so upset, that I remember waking up at three in the morning, grabbing my steel baseball bat, and storming into the living room. The room was packed with people and music was blasting. I walked in, pulled the plug from the amplifier and told everyone that I’m counting down from 10. Whoever was left in the room when I got to 0 was going to be meeting the business end of my bat. Needless to say, the room was empty and dead silent 10 seconds later.

When I question him about what the heck was going on the next day, he says that they’re just his friends and that I shouldn’t be upset, since he pays rent too. I also ask him why I only see these 'friends' just once and never again? He laughs when I ask him this. I start getting the suspicion that he’s actually dealing out of the house. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, and our lease was up in about two months so I figured we would just ride it out.

Now fast-forward to three weeks out from our lease ending. I’d found another beautiful apartment and I was going to be moving in with my best friend, so I was absolutely pumped to get out of this mess. I had a short work trip to NYC for a few days, so I leave for that. When I return something about the house just seems off. I walk up the stairwell to the house and see the front door is wide open. I figure this is because one of the roommates is either loading something, but boy was I wrong!

I walk in to my apartment and notice that things have been moved a bit in the living room. Not trashed, just moved. From our kitchen, I can see the rear door, and I notice that’s wide open too. My spidey sense is tingling at this point, and I drop my luggage and head to my room. Because I was worried that my roommates would steal my stuff to fund their addiction, I put a lock on my door. The door had been kicked in with the lock still on it. I panic at this point.

I go in to find my whole room turned upside down. My MacBook Pro? Gone. New expensive Canon camera? Gone. About $750 in Foreign Currency? Gone. 30 year old aged bottle of vino? Gone. Weirdly, I also find that some clothes I’d bought recently were stolen, such as a jean jacket, some dress pants, and a few shirts. I thought this was really odd. Instantly I knew who it was. I knew K or one of his acquaintances must have broken into my place. I say this because none of his high-value items electronics were taken. It was all my stuff.

When he comes home, I grab him and confront him about it, but he obviously denies everything. I want to dish out some good old street justice, but I figure it’s not worth it and he’s just a kid. I don’t have any evidence, so I can’t do much more. All in all I lost about $10k worth of stuff from my place that day. I also didn’t have any renter's insurance, so the loss was entirely mine. The police couldn’t do anything about it because there was no evidence. I cut my losses and thankfully moved from that place a few weeks later. To this day I’m absolutely positive that K was responsible for the burglary. Truly the roommate from purgatory."

"That's When My Blood Ran Cold"
"That's When My Blood Ran Cold"

"Oh boy, where to start! I’ve been blessed with awful roommates all throughout college, but my last roommate was definitely the craziest.

She seemed like a fun and charismatic person. She even bought some bubbly and strawberries for me and then-boyfriend because we were such a 'perfect couple', I hold nothing against this ex-roommate. But rough patches happen to everyone, and she hit an insane rough patch while we were living together.

There had been several intense fights with her on-again-off-again boyfriend prior to this, but things really got bad around March. They broke up, and she began hanging out with Dennis. Dennis was a 23-year-old homeless addict. I believe he got her into the stuff, despite her reassurances that she wasn’t using in the house. I found lots of evidence around the apartment. After she broke down the bathroom door to get to him because he was shooting up, she finally called it off between them. I was stoked, as Dennis had seemed genuinely scary. It was a relief to leave the apartment and visit my family for the weekend. When I returned on Monday, I returned to a war zone.

There was a hole in the wall the size of a toddler, and my kitchen chairs were in pieces. Apparently Dennis visited in the middle of the night, found my roommate with her previous boyfriend, and they all decided to fight. With chairs. And walls. Luckily the downstairs neighbor called the cops and they came to sort things out. I thanked my lucky stars I wasn’t there, and I hoped that being driven away in a cop car would keep Dennis away! Spoiler alert: It didn’t.

That Thursday I went to class. The teacher was out, so I decided to go home and get some cleaning done before the landlord brought people over to see the place. I walk in the door and notice the balcony is open. I shut it and head back to my room. I can’t find my phone charger. Weird. Where’s my tablet? Not in the kitchen. Where did I leave my laptop? Why is my piggy bank emptied on my bed?

Dennis broke in and stole all of my things. None of Roommate's things though. The next hour was chaos. I’m showing the apartment, calling anyone for help, and hyperventilating. I go to the police, and they can’t do anything but walk through the apartment. So we do. And I notice more things are gone. Just then, the landlord calls to say thanks and that my guy friend was very courteous when they met. And that’s when my blood ran cold. I walked in on him robbing me. I walked in on Dennis taking all of my things, and he must have been hiding while I frantically sobbed to people on the phone.

I don’t know what would have happened to me had other people not been there. I don’t know what would have happened to me if my mom hadn’t yelled at me to get out of the apartment right away. So I went home and tried to pull it back together. Roommate knew this was all because of her and she replaced everything. I avoided my apartment and just tried to get through graduation. Two months later, I skedaddled right out of there, never to talk to Roommate again.

I guess the good news is Dennis is in jail again."

Living Under A Dictator
Living Under A Dictator

This happened when I moved into Bangalore for my internship. The room I found seemed pretty small, but it would work. Room seemed to fine, though it was small. When I visited, my future roommate (let's call her Arushi) was not there. So I didn't get a chance to meet her, otherwise I would have never selected that room.

As soon as I moved into that room, I met Arushi, who immediately called to her boyfriend and started screeching about how she didn't want me as a roommate. I wondered if she didn't want to share the room, then why didn't she choose a one-bedroom apartment? I still tried to befriend with her. I extended my hand while giving my introduction. Before I could complete my sentence, she put her earphones on.

Arushi and I stayed almost one and a half months together in that room. Arushi had set lots of rules for me. I could not listen to music in the night, even with my headphones, as it disturbed her. The fan would always be on full speed, even when the weather was cold. Only Arushi could control the TV remote. I could not use the bathroom after 7 a.m., because she wanted to use bathroom at 7 o'clock sharp. Even a one-minute delay made her really angry.

I tried so hard to live with her. When she used to ask for my help, she became very sweet and gentle. After her motive is fulfilled, again the same bitter Arushi. I counted the days until I could move out. Finally, that much-awaited day arrived. I came home at about 10 p.m. in the night. She had already left the apartment permanently. The way she left the room made me cry.

The room was full of garbage: empty shampoo bottles, sanitary napkin covers, half filled lotions, old worn-out clothes, and broken glass bottles on the floor. I wasn't able to breathe in that room. I went inside the bathroom. There, she trimmed her body hair. Instead of sweeping it up, she preferred to spread it all across the bathroom.

Ironically, she worked in Human Resources at that time. I had been way too nice with her during our time together. But she took advantage of my niceness way too much."

Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures?
Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures?

I had a roommate, let's say her name is 'P'. She was dating a guy named 'B', who used to live in the same community. They were from same town in India. However, P's family was extremely wealthy, and B's family was middle-class.

P's father didn’t accept their marriage because of differences in financial status and caste. He told her that he won't give any of her property if she went against him. P very firmly told B that she cannot see him anymore without her parents' permission. B tried to convince her family for 3 months, but eventually gave up and moved to New York. Before he left, she gave him a big speech about how life goes on and all that. After he moved, he decided to marry a girl his mother selected for him. Once P realized that B was getting married, she went completely insane.

She started crying loudly and throwing tantrums until she finally fell asleep. I was scared that she might do something stupid, so I continued to check on her the next day, but she very rudely asked me to leave her alone. After three days, I was really scared. P didn't seem to be eating anything. So I called the police. They opened the door to find her lying there motionless, but seemingly alive.

We got the paramedics to take her to the hospital. Since I am not family, I couldn’t go with them. But I did update her parents. I was so scared and angry. When she was discharged, I finally moved out."

Woke Up To A War Zone
Woke Up To A War Zone

"I once roomed with a friend, after we had both gotten out of the military. He was a musician looking for a career and I had enrolled in college. It could be said he had a drinking problem. One Saturday night, we were in a dance club and he began chatting up some girls. I came over and joined in. A couple of the girls were polite enough to accept me into the group and talk to me. My friend got mad, and before I knew it he was being thrown out by the bouncer.

Fast-forward to about 2 a.m. when I got back. There were broken glass window slats on the porch outside the front door, a broken wicker chair inside, pizza vomited up onto the wall, various furniture turned over, potted plant knocked over and shredded, and probably other things I can't even recall. He was out cold in his bed. Next morning he got up, came outside where I was sweeping up the glass, and said something like, 'I guess I got a little carried away!'

Not long after that, I moved out."

A Wet, Messy Surprise
A Wet, Messy Surprise

"I didn’t think very highly of my roommate, but I'll admit he was stunning. He was jacked, tan, had this amazing beard, and jet black hair. We didn’t hang out much that first week of classes, but we had enough in common to at least avoid the awkward silences we were both dreading. One Friday night, he mentioned that he was going out to a party and wouldn’t be back until late. I was still dating my high school sweetheart at the time and had decided to Skype with her instead of going out. As I was saying goodbye to her, my roommate bursts into the room. In a polite tone only a wasted person could have, he asks to put his Chinese food in our fridge. Once done with that, he heads for the door again and when I ask what he is doing, he yells, 'Its only 11:30 man. The night is young!'

I just shake my head and head to bed when he exits the room.

At some point around 2 a.m., I wake up to the sounds of things crashing onto our floor. Sometime while I was sleeping, my roommate had gotten back and was shoveling everything we had on our desk onto the floor. I watched him then climb up onto the desk in fetal position, pull a towel over him as a blanket, and pass out. I just kind of shook my head and went back to sleep, planning on laughing about it when I told him about it later that morning.

Some time later, I wake up to the sound of water dripping close to my face. I open my eyes to see my roommate, boxers down, peeing all over my side of our desk.

I said, 'Dude, what are you doing?!'

My roommate simply responded with, 'Taking a leak dude, what does it look like?'

He then leaps from a standing position halfway across the room, to land completely horizontal in his bed. He then proceeds to pass out again.

At this point I am panicking. This doesn’t happen to real people. This isn’t happening. What is going on?! I flip on the lights, and there is a pond of urine all over my stuff. Books, notebooks, and some of my laundry. Most of the stuff I currently own. I try in vain to wake him up and eventually decide that I need to at least try to dry my stuff off. As I exit the room, I peer down the hall towards the bathroom and see a fellow wasted floor mate using the water fountain. When I try to get his attention, he just sluggishly turns to look at me, and then wordlessly stumbles into the bathroom. At this point I realize that I am alone. I am the only sober person here.

When I barrel into the bathroom to get some paper towels, my floor mate is up against the urinal and asks if I am serious about my roommate peeing everywhere. When I finally convince him, he decides the best way to help me was to rouse everyone from their slumber and get his camera to take pictures. We then march to my room, flip on the light and my roommate wakes up to the hooting and hollering of a half-dozen of his fellow students. He is absolutely incredulous that he could do something like this and doesn’t remember a single thing. After a few hours, we finally manage to isolate what needs to be replaced and clorox-wipe everything else. He turns to me, apologizing, and says, 'I’m so sorry. I will pay to replace everything, and I promise I won't ever get this wasted again.'

I told him, 'Listen, you honestly don’t remember, so why don't we take this as a learning experience and just not do it again? Because if you do something like this again, I am going to beat the stuffing out of you.'

He completely agrees that he would deserve such a beating if it happens again, so we go back to sleep on even terms. The next day, we carry on as usual and he decides to go out to another party. I was absolutely convinced that he would indeed repeat his previous mistake, and I waited up for him like a super-creep that following day to prove I was correct.

Around 3am or so, he gets back, passes out for a few minutes, and then proceeds to walk to the center of the room. He then drops trow and begins urinating for the second time in three days onto our floor. I was ready for this, and as soon as I was sure this was happening, I threw the lights on and yelled at him that he was peeing in the room again. He sort of snaps out of it, fumbles to put his shorts back on, and stumbles out of the room to get to the bathroom.

I decided that as soon as he made his way into the door I would sock him as hard as I could. I got out of bed, realized that I couldn’t get to the door because there was a lake of urine in the way, and put my shoes on. A good 15 minutes had gone by before I realized that my roommate had probably cracked his head on the toilet, and that toilet bowl was going to steal my glory. In a fury, I ripped open the door and realized the poor guy hadn’t even made it down the hall. I gave him a solid kick and took his keys when he didn’t move. I locked the door behind me, used the leftover paper towels from the night before, and went back to sleep.

The next morning, he comes into the room and asks me why there are paper towels all over the floor. I lose my cool and explain to him that for a second time this weekend he managed to cover our room in his own bodily fluids. His face goes pale, and he tells me that there is no way he could have peed here.

When my roommate had gone to breakfast that morning, he was approached by a rather large member of our football team. Apparently, while being walked home by a girl who lived below us, he decided to use the bathroom on the 1st floor (we were on the third). He didn’t actually make it into the bathroom however, and had instead stumbled into said football players room and while this guy was playing Guitar Hero, dropped his pants, and proceeded to pee on his carpet. Thankfully, the girl managed to convince the football player that everything would be taken care of in the morning. She leaves my roommate outside and cleans up this guys carpet with some stolen cleaning supplies from the bathroom. The issue is that when she finally gets done, she goes outside to check on my roommate and realizes he isn’t anywhere to be found. At that point she had had enough and went home.

My roommate had then come to our room where the above events transpired.

Some time later, a group of guys on the floor had come back from a party and saw my roommate sleeping it off in the hall. After they try to get into our room to drop him off (and fail because I have his keys), they convince my roommate to just sleep on their floor. They give him a spare pillow and a blanket and wish him a good night.

About an hour later, my roommate decides that he, once again, needs to drain his bladder. He walks over to the window, dropped his boxers again and pees outside. The issue here is that this is where the window would have been if it was our room. Instead of a window, there was just a closet and an oscillating floor fan on high. My roommate, unloaded his entire bladder into the fan, spraying the entire room and its inhabitants in a fine mist of his own urine. He then proceeds to get back into 'his' bed. The actual owner of that bed then wakes up to being spooned by a relative stranger while covered in urine. My roommate wakes up being pushed onto the ground, and once all the craziness was over, spends the rest of the early morning doing exactly what he spent the previous morning doing: Cleaning up, and Clorox wiping everything.

That was my first weekend at college. I was pretty upset with him until the end of the year though. Now, we are pretty good friends, and just laugh about it all."

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