The guy tore up my first art project, took the box out into the park next to our place, and performed some sort of rite on it, to purify it. The ritual itself I missed, but the enacting of it seemed to require stacks of newspapers, crushed flowers, a bible, salt and pepper shakers from the kitchen (holding batteries instead of seasonings), and cat turds.

Okay, back to the beginning. I'll lay the story out here front to back, for the amusement of the masses and the pleasure I feel in sharing it. A "Yes-I-Was-Brave-I-Lived-Through-That" sort of thing.  :)

Not a single bit of this is invented. All the following events took place with the same individual, in the 1999-2000 academic year, at the University of Washington.

Episode 1: Four people move into a new apartment at the beginning of the school year. The University has chosen roomies for us, and unit K101 houses myself, two dental students (Rich and Rob), and a biology student, the Coshmond of this story.

Within three weeks, the biology student, a very large and muscular man, had accused all the rest of us of prejudice against him, unable to see the real him past his dark skin. He says we all had plots against him, because he was black. We were all three hurt, to be accused of such.

Oh, and he'd also told me to my face that he felt I should be dead, because I was gay.

Episode 2: Most of the year goes by. Coshmond is extremely unpleasant to live with. He uses intimidation like another person would use words. He makes blatant sexual passes at Rich's girlfriend if Rich steps out of the living room for even a moment. He accuses us of stealing things because he can't find them, then a moment later finds them in his own other hand.

The dull events of the year were flavored with random bits like this; unpredictable and sporadic, but always there. Our only saving grace is this unpleasant gentleman stayed in his room a lot.

Episode 3: Finals approach - Coshmond snaps.

Imagine waking up one morning to a blood-curdling scream of rage as it echoes through the apartment. This is followed by cussing, shouting, and massive verbal battles against no one at all.

He's friendly if someone tries to talk to him. Sweating and with a big grin on his face. But the moment the conversation tapers off, he goes back to word-fighting the very air.

We fled the apartment - it's 8 am and my first class isn't for a couple more hours. I stop by the housing office and try to put in a report, and they haven't a clue how to handle it. I buy a can of mace at the corner drug store.

Later that afternoon as we all tip-toe back home, we find peace and quiet. Coshmond is either locked behind the door of his room or he's gone.

Interlude: What follows is the best three days of the school year. Rich, Rob, and I start even eating together and hanging out again. We can sit in the living room of our own apartment. Life is good.  :)

But, after a couple days, we worry that a dead corpse may be locked in Coshmond's room. You know, we haven't seen the guy for days, he normally never leaves campus, and all his shoes are still piled in the hall. Who knows, he might have OD'ed on some drug and died.

We call the police to come open the room, just in case. The officer sits with us a bit and takes down our words, trying of course to be neutral to the whole affair. Some bit into the story, he says, "Wait, what's this guy's name again? Oh, I remember him! He did the same thing last year!" The police officer then proceeds to tell us gossip and stories about our roommate, from times gone by when he lived with other people.

Joy.

Anyway, Coshmond's room was empty. No sign of him, nor drugs, nor anything. Interestingly, this was the first time Rich, Rob, or I had seen the inside of Coshmond's room the whole school year.

Side note: the only way we knew Coshmond's last name (omitted from this narrative) and could tell it to the officer is because I once received a piece of misdirected mail.

The police call back later that night - Coshmond had been admitted to the hospital two days ago, and they were holding him.

Episode 4: He's baaaaack!

The hospital can only hold him for three days unless he's a proven danger to himself or others.

Criminy! I carry a can of pepper-mace when I walk IN the door of my own apartment. What more proof do you need?

Let's see, what came next? I think it was the bucket.

I was in my room. Coshmond was all buddy-buddy "I'm better now, man. Life is good, man. You'll see, it's going to be better now, man. You know what's coming next, right?" I keep puttering around, waiting for a friend to arrive.

Hearing weird noises, I grudgingly stick my head out to see what's up.

The police report caught the gist of it pretty well. He had flour daubed on his face, the bucket overflowing with everything from an iron to the TV remote control to computer disks to herbs and spices to shaving cream to a bag full of sugar - without the bag part. As the report said, Coshmond believed God had told him to make the concoction, as a sign of world unity.

I went up to the housing office, the clerk said I should call the cops. I called the cops, and sat outside. My friend arrived. The cops arrived. The housing director arrived. Coshmond walked off to the hospital with the police, again.

We cleaned up the bucket and resulting mess as best as possible, then went on our date.

The hospital let him go again, that evening.

Episode 5.5 / 6.5: The Shrine

My art project comes in here. Weird noises abound out in the apartment, but my friend and I are both refusing to go out and see what's happening.

Episode 6: He's baaaaack! Oh, I said that already.

We finally stick our heads out when the police arrive. Oh, hi again. Whazzup?

Well, it went like this: Coshmond had locked himself out of his bedroom. Rob, ever friendly and helpful, gives the benefit of the doubt to our psycho boy and shows Coshmond how to pop the window screen out. Rob helps Coshmond get into his bedroom and open the door. Coshmond thanks Rob for his help, closes the door again, and calls the police to report Rob for breaking and entering.

The police were as stunned as Rob was. They made sure they had the facts straight, then disregarded the issue and left. Coshmond couldn't even talk to the police without laughing at the matter, thinking the story really funny himself.

Coshmond had lifted Rob's own keys in this mess.

And a small pile of broken candles was sitting outside my own door. Damn, that had to be my art project.

Episode 5.5 / 6.5: The Shrine (revisited)

Yup, it was my art project. The next morning, Coshmond is missing again. Rich and Rob had left for their own classes. My friend and I found the remains of my art project - and Coshmond's purification rite - out in the park next door. Also the shredded remains of a Native American dream catcher I'd had out as decoration. We spent a bit of time pulling all non-Coshmond property out of the common areas of the apartment. I stored most in my room, some of the extra in the labs at the Computer Science building.

Oi. I had to redo the project, my art instructor insisted. I chose a simpler scene the second time, something not so time consuming. All the sharp pointy imagery was just pleasant diversion.

I slept with my boken* next to my bed these days mind you. Rich had a frying pan. Rob often slept at his girlfriend's place.

{* boken = wooden sword, used in the practicing of martial arts}

Episode 7: Lockouts

I may be skipping an episode somewhere, as it's been two years since the events happened. But I'll finish off this narrative with the final climax.

Lockouts. I'm sitting in my room working on a class project (guess which one?). Coshmond is working himself into a frenzy out in the main room. Rich taps on my door and suggests I stay hidden, because for whatever reason, Coshmond is furious at me.

The next tapping on my door is the resident advisor from the housing office. She's a bit put out with me. Apparently, Coshmond has been getting continuously locked out of his bedroom. He's still missing some keys, so any time his door locks it costs him fifteen dollars to have someone come by and unlock it. It's really cruel, this advisor says, that I keep locking his door on him.

Waaaait a second, I hadn't left my own room in hours.

She brushes that off and goes to try to calm psycho boy down.

Later she comes back, and with Rich and myself there, apologizes to us that we have to live with him.

All traces of neutrality are gone at this point.

See, the door locking? That was magic. Coshmond was mad because I'd been using black magic to torment him. Coshmond fully admitted I'd not left my own room. But, each time his door locked, as he paced between his bedroom and the kitchen, it had to be my fault, right?

Man, I so wish I'd been aware of this magic. It really sucks to be so gifted and not even know how it works.  :)

And that pretty much finishes it. I wish I could finish the story off in a more exciting way. Suicide, or something. But naa, the year was done, and somehow he kept himself in control the last week or so that we all lived there. I had graduated and was moving out. Coshmond expected to graduate that year, but I can't say if it happened or not. Rich and Rob were finding non-university places to live. Coshmond was the last of the four of us to move out, and new residents were already moving in.

I sometimes wonder what happened to the guy; just a droll curiosity. But web searches turn up nothing, and I'm not anywhere curious enough to do a more serious research.

One year of his presence is enough. It's now a story to reminisce and laugh about.