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How to Frame Your Roommate for Murder

Arrogant goats. SOCAS (The Society of Children Against Sandcastles). New people. They are the top three things I hate most in the world. Please note: When I say new people I am not talking about slimy babies, freshly squeezed from the womb of our glorious queen human in Greenland. I am talking about those individuals who try to invade my social circle of excellence. Therefore, it is easy to see how a new roommate caused a clan of nomadic boils to form all across the top of my white derby ball head. But thanks to the 5 Step Program for Getting Your Roommate Evicted but then Getting Him Accidentaly Framed for Murder, that troublesome new person no longer roams the halls of my house. Don’t believe the 5 Step Program works? Well then, maybe you should ask the dead cat?

It all began one glorious afternoon when I strolled into my living room, after a refreshing jog in a meadow nearby. Due to reasons beyond my control, I had collapsed in a ditch the night before and had to trek through aforementioned meadow to return home. Picking the syringes and badgers out of my clothes, I noticed an unfamiliar rectangular person, sitting down on my throne watching TV. Without warning, the barbarian invader jumped up, crushed my hand, and spoke these spine altering words….

You must Derek. I’m your new roommate… Dick Doberman.

Dick told me that he had got in touch with Conor, after seeing an advert for the vacant room in the Boston Ferret. Ismael, my former roommate, had only been sent to prison 2 months ago and already Conor was shoving some strange person from a different country into the room. Supposedly, the Screaming Centre I had created wasn’t making the best use out of the vacant room. What a complete fool.

Doberman’s first few weeks at the house were hell. But instead of your typical hell it had added flames and heat and fire and flames. I suddenly found myself living in a well organised house with rules and procedures for everything. You couldn’t leave your dishes in the sink. You couldn’t walk around naked when ever someone had a guest over. It was a maximum security prison disguised as a clean and comfortable house.

The worst change to the house came with the introduction of a cleaning rota. Now everyone had to take orders from a comic sans spreadsheet stuck on the fridge. For whatever reason, the Cool Buddy Gang of Friendship thought that I was just going to stop working on my record label, Toole Records, and devote all of my time to the Cleaning Reich.

Tell me Conor… how exactly do you market your new progressive nature sounds album when you’re squirting bleach all over someone else’s shit? I wouldn’t have made such a fuss over the cleaning rota if they had the courtesy not to include me in it. I had no other choice but to live out the rest of my days locked up in my bedroom. I refused to bow down to the Fridge Führer. My self-imposed exile and resulting dirty protest turned out to be a dandy but short-lived time. The brown walls and dressing gown came to an end one hot and sweaty afternoon.

I was happily lying in my filth looking through an exquisite selection of porn from one of the internet’s finest establishments  I had been busy refueling my skin shuttle for over 2.3 minutes. My spermanauts were ready for lift off. Then, just as my flesh rocket and the well-paid hypnotised Asian girls were about to form a perfect symbiotic relationship, the video stopped and started to buffer!

Control did everything it could to abort the mission but the launch codes had been entered. The ship’s crew flung themselves onto a loading screen that was hovering over a close up of Hypnodick’s testicles. The masturbation station was in meltdown. Someone had to be held accountable for this disaster.

Physically sick with anger, I began searching the house for the person responsible for murdering the internet. Then I heard someone chuckle and giggle. It was a familiar haaw haaw haaw laugh. Doberman! He was sitting in the living room Skyping with his parents back in Germany.

Oh I suppose you’ll want me to make a German joke now. Something about the war maybe? Something offensive like Hey guys how about those Germans and that war? Well I’m not going to do it so just drop it! Family before porn is an unforgivable sin (Psalms 14:27). Using Skype to see some girl flash a bit of her left tit is perfectly ok. Using Skype to tell your parents about all the shit activities you’ve done over the past week is not ok! Dick Doberman was now my sworn enemy. It was time to implement the 5 Steps. Germany caused World War II.

Step 1 – Know Your Enemy

The first step is all about surveillance. You need to know everything about your target. What time he gets up in the morning, what he eats for breakfast, what his mother wears to bed, everything! I spent an entire week of my life watching Dick. Wherever he was, I was. Going for a drink with his buddies? I was there. The first time with his girlfriend? I was there. His grandmother’s funeral? I was there. Don’t worry, he never suspected a thing. The coffin was huge.

Step 2 – Divide and Conquer

Taken directly from Tinned Food’s, Art of War, the next step is to turn the other roommates against the invading whore. My weapon of choice for this step is the forged letter. All you have to do is write out a few confessions to crimes committed in the house, clearly signed by the evil roommate, and leave them lying around for the others to read. It didn’t take much to turn my roommate, Tony, off Dick forever. He found a 4 page letter in his room describing all the ways in which his girlfriend looked like the end product of a jack russell’s passionate one night stand with a kangaroo addicted to heroin. Conor wasn’t so easily fooled by his set of letters. In the end, it was a simple gesture in his bed that made Dick, Conor’s arch-nemesis.

Step 3 – Ninja Warfare

Step 3 advocates and promotes the use of physical harm and violence against others. During the surveillance stage I discovered that Doberman was severely allergic to cats. To use this weakness to my advantage, I first had to catch myself a cat. I made a cat trap out of a box, a stick and a fishing line. I propped open the box with the stick and covered the ground under it with dozens of naked pictures of cats. I attached a length of fishing line to the stick so that when a cat stepped into the box the line could be pulled, releasing the stick and trapping the cat. Of course, the whole thing was only there to distract the cats from me hiding in a bush next to the box armed with a giant cavity block fastened to a large log. I smashed the first cat to bits but I struck the second one perfectly.

I took the knocked out, slightly dead cat and rubbed it all over Dick’s room. On his bed sheets, his pillows, blankets, clothes, everything I could scrub a dying cat’s back on. After hiding the bald zombie in the attic above his bedroom, I sat in the living room waiting for Dick to return to his fluffy nightmare. Unfortunately, Doberman was a stronger opponent than I had first thought. When they released him from hospital he cleaned his room from top to bottom and removed every single strand of blood stained cat hair.

Luckily, I was able to convince him that it must have been one of those pesky window cats prevalent around boston this time of the year. I told him that window cats have claws shaped like little crowbars that allow them to unlock just about any window. Dick didn’t question any of it and believed all of my lies. Full credit goes to his collapsed lung for not having him in the right frame of mind to notice the blatant flaw in my story. Boston is home to the door cat, not the window cat.

Step 4 – Escalate! Escalate! Escalate!

When you feel like nothing is working, kill off your empathy for others and rethink your approach. Since chemical warfare didn’t work on Dick, I decided to escalate things. Breaking into his room with the help of a native door cat, I searched around for his laptop to see if I could find some incriminating material that would result in Dick’s eviction. But I found nothing useful. The only interesting thing I found was a couple of pictures of his girlfriend’s hairy mince-pie. As I looked at the ebb and flow of her wire brush pubes, an amazing idea occurred to me. Instead of trying to find incriminating evidence on his laptop, why not just plant some myself?

Operation Porn Factory began right there and then. I used his credit card to download the most hardcore and haunting animal porn I could find on the internet. I put the entire collection on his newly created personal website, After a few hours of fine tuning the website, I sent out the link to my roommates under the coded alias Kered and, in a few short seconds, they had discovered Dick’s revolting porn mine.

Later on that day, Conor called me into his room to show me the website. They were in complete shock at the sheer volume of time and effort Dick had devoted to his website. He had gone so far as to create a game where visitors to the site could dress up puppies in sexy lingerie and ghastly costumes. You know that pokemon that evolves into Haunter at level 25? Anyway, we all agreed that Dick had to be kicked out of the house. It was only a matter of hours before Dick would be out on the street.

Step 5 – Lie to the Police

I was pretty surprised when the police called to the door looking for Dick. It turned out that Conor had phoned the police after discovering the twisted website. Unknown to me at the time, the police take this kind of thing very seriously. They assured Conor that Dick would be put away for a long time.

When Dick came home, the police were waiting for him in his room. They wrestled him to the ground and put him in handcuffs. As the two policemen dragged Dick through the living room, he turned to me, stared me directly in the eyes and said…

Derek! Tell them I didn’t do it! You know I had nothing to do with this! You’re my friend Derek!

The two policemen looked at me for an answer. I had a moral obligation to fulfill.

He’s guilty officers. I saw him rape a cat and put its bloody carcass in the attic above his room. 

Now forget about Dick Doberman and listen to Toole Records brand new club hit below…

>> Shawn Drobot – Fly Like an Eagle <<

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