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My Deadbeat Roommate is Actually a Terrorist

February 23, 2014

In the last days of my pregnancy, my husband and I mused that we were about to take on a deadbeat roommate. This little being was coming into the world to live with us. He/She would not pay any bills…would eat all our food…party loudly through most nights…and would trash the place on a regular basis. She/he would also not speak the language, so good luck asking him/her to change their ways.

We are now 6 months into the 18 year lease (with a possibility of refusal to comply with eviction at that point) and I realize, we do not have a deadbeat roommate…we have been hijacked by a terrorist. Sure our little girl is cute, but anyone who has watched tv or movies knows, it is usually the least likely suspect who is plotting the destruction of our civilized American lifestyle. How do I know she is a terrorist? I looked it up where one finds all important reference material on the internet, Wikipedia. My little terrorist is quite adept at several Methods of Torture. While it is uncertain what information this terrorist wants from me, she knows how to perform several torture methods and employ a number of torture devices.

Physical Torture Methods

  • Bodily (Genital) Mutilation: My body went through the ringer carrying this little one around for 41 weeks and then was torn open in ways that should not be natural. Thankfully, the damage does not seem be permanent.
  • The Breast Ripper, a device used on adulterous women in the middle ages in Europe, is something my little terrorist must have researched. I never cheated on my husband, but our terrorist has worked a number on my breasts.  My nipples feel like they are ripped  off each day. They are pulled, chapped and bitten. I have endured blood blisters and hickeys unseen on my body since junior year of high school. I am told when she is done with me, they will be a shriveled mess.
  • Scalping: When not pulling at nipples, my little terrorist has attempted to scalp me by yanking the hair out of my head. I repeat “gentle” over and over again, but it seems to do no good. At least I am not alone in this pain. The poor dog and my husband’s chest hair are subjected to it as well.
  • Flagellation: I have been flogged on a weekly basis. My breasts, face and neck are covered in lash marks from her tiny razor-like fingernails. This is a method, that I can avoid if I clip her nails in time, but the act of clipping often brings on sound torture (see psychological torture below).
  • Stress Positions: These place the human body in such a way that a great amount of weight is placed on just one or two muscles. These muscles are usually my already overtaxed from pregnancy lower back muscles. After feeding and rocking her to sleep, I bend over her crib rail to lay her down. This often results in her squirming. I must then remain in the stress position for several minutes before carefully trying to extract my arm from under her tiny head. Inevitably, she wakes and starts screaming. I have to pick her up, rock her and then put myself back in the stress position. I know I know, put them to sleep awake and alert you say. Terrorists, don’t trust being left in a room alone to fall asleep. When left to fall asleep on their own, sound torture immediately commences.
  • Instruments of Torture: These little terrorists come with a slew of torture devices including baby carriers, car seats, and toys that play obnoxious songs, like It’s a Small World, for hours at a time.
  • Water Boarding: Thankfully, my little terrorist hasn’t figured this one out. Well at least not yet.

Psychological Torture Methods

  • Sound Torture: Never before in my life have I questioned my sanity or doubted myself more than since the little terrorist arrived. I have been exposed to unpleasant sounds for extended periods of time…with extended periods of time being an understatement. While it may not be death metal…screaming, crying and whimpering have quickly degraded my once sense of calm.
  • Solitary confinement: Because I live on the north end of my mountain valley, I do not often get visitors. If I want human contact, I must subject myself to more unpleasant sounds while I bundle up the terrorist and strap her into the back breaking torture device known as “the car seat.” She will then proceed to scream for the entire drive into town until we get to the grocery store, at which time she will smile and look adorable. This is part of her ploy. As long as she looks cute in public, no one believes me when I beg for them to save me. How can this sweet thing be such a devil? Shame on you for thinking, none the less speaking aloud that you do not love every waking minute with her! (They don’t believe that every minute is a waking minute, see sleep deprivation below). At the grocery store, I must run quickly through the aisles grabbing what I can so that I can get the terrorist back to “the hole” aka home, in time to get her down for her next nap. Invariably, I will have spent 5 minutes too long at the store. When this happens, the terrorist falls asleep in her car seat torture device a mile from home and wakes up to perform sound torture on me as soon as I try to extract her from the vehicle.
  • Sleep Deprivation: the most pervasive and grueling method that I know my terrorist is not alone in performing. This method falls under both the physical and psychological torture categories. After six months without sleeping more than 3 hours in a row, I am ready to talk. If only I knew what state secrets she was after. Oh Mel, you say…you just haven’t read the terrorist negotiation manual. But, I have. I have read the manuals by Ezzo, Karp and Pantly. I attempted the tight 2 hour schedule of eat, play, sleep. I have wrapped my terrorist in straight jackets. I struck back with my own shushing sound torture. I tried every S including human Sacrafice (the human being myself) to no avail. Recently I even tried the manual by Weissbluth which  states that sovereign nations should not negotiate with terrorists no matter what. After an hour of sound torture and then projectile vomiting, I gave up.

So how does one escape the hijacking? You don’t. After six months I have finally given in to Stockholm Syndrome. If you can’t beat them, fall in love with them, defend them and if they tell you to, rob a bank. What else can one do? Perhaps now that I promise to submit, she will go back to just being a deadbeat roommate.

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