Fake Christmas Trees vs. Tomatoes

Rob hates a lot of things: hugs, cats, other people’s dogs, kids, bad service at restaurants, poorly crafted beer, and splitting the check at the end of the night.  Aside from those things, and a whole lot of other things he really, really, really hates fake Christmas trees and tomatoes.

I don’t like tomatoes either but I own one of these offensive fake Christmas trees (Exhibit A).

A scene:

A few days before Christmas, my apartment, newly arranged for livability and sanity purposes sat awaiting the arrival of Exhibit A.  My tree didn’t come from a lot.  Oh no.  It came in a box; three pieces of plastic greens eagerly awaiting their chance to spread Christmas cheer.  Some of our friends were home for the holiday and were gathered in my living room with cocktails and snacks, watching me put together the tree. 

Enter Rob.

“Do you like my tree?” I asked.

“What tree?  I don’t see a tree?”

“Fine, do you like my fake Christmas tree?”

“If we’re roommates, you better not think of bringing that tree into our house.  It can’t even sit in a box in the basement.  If you do, I swear I’ll pee on it and then light it on fire.” 

“Whatever,” I said, used to his idle threats.

“You can store it at my house,” replied our friend Jess. 

Luckily, I knew she’d say that, even though I didn’t really believe Rob.  And besides, a real Christmas tree would be nice.  I just know that if I had to go and buy a Christmas tree every year, I would never get around to it.

A few days later, at an impromptu friend family dinner, Kate asked, “Rob, what do you hate more fake Christmas trees or tomatoes?”

After a few moments of contemplation he said, “I hate Fake Christmas trees more than everything in the whole world,” (or something along those lines).

I really thought he was going to pick tomatoes.  Good thing Jess will let me keep my tree at her house.  I’m starting to think he really would pee on it, given the opportunity.

Chapters 1 and 2

Here’s how this started.  

I live in a little apartment with white, white walls I can't paint.  My stove may have four burners but it's impossible to cook using them all at once.  There is insufficient counter space and my laundry costs $1.25/wash and $1.00 for the dryer.  

Rob, my friend since sometime after I let him copy my math homework in high school, lives with his parents, a dog and a cat.  He has a full time job and a new car. Rob needs a place where he could bring the girls he could be picking up at bars, restaurants, bookstores, or the deli department at grocery stores everywhere.

My apartment is a little too dorm for my taste.

His house is a little too family for his taste.

Then one day I said, “When my lease expires, you’re going to have to be my roommate.”  You see, the college loan sharks and the credit card company’s don’t care about librarians. 

My lease expires in July.  Right now we’re still talking about rooming together.  It’s very possible that we’ll get to the point of no return and decide we’ve made the worst decision ever and back out. 

No matter what happens, it’s going to be funny.