“I’m putting my foot down, Todd,” you warn. “You need to clean up after your cat or you need to find somewhere else to live.”
Todd’s cat, so he’s told you, has a horrendous habit of leaving trash and dirty dishes lying around. Every morning when you wake up to find the feline in the common area, lying among a pile of beer bottles, pizza boxes, half-filled glasses and dirty plates.
You didn’t even know cats drank beer.
“Look, Aaron,” Todd counters “he wants to clean up, he just-“
“What?” you interrupt.
“He’s going through a rough time, man. He lost his job-”
“Cat’s don’t have jobs. They chase mice.”
“Exactly! There aren’t any mice here to chase! He’s unemployed, besides that, his girlfriend dumped him..”
“…his mom died…”
“How would you even know that?”
“He doesn’t have any thumbs, man!”
“Somehow doesn’t stop him from drinking himself to sleep every night, Todd, or is that not what happens? Todd? Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
Todd’s head sinks and he refuses to meet your gaze.
“I’ll clean up after him,” Todd says, still not lifting his eyes.
“See that you do.”