Picture it: All-freshman girls' dorm, one shared bathroom per floor, two girls per room. Each room was tiny.
My first roommate, Anne, had stuffed Freddy Kruger dolls lining her shelves, desk, headboard, windowsills, etc... these creepy dolls were everywhere in our teeny-tiny room. If Anne had had her say, our window shades would be pulled down all the time, but I managed to convince her that one of the three windows was "mine", and that I wanted sunlight in our room, so I almost always kept one of the shades up. She stopped talking to me at that point. Not just the meh, I'm not going to engage in lengthy conversation kind of not talking, I mean the all-out never says a word kind of not talking.
I get back from class one afternoon and Anne is sitting on her bed, holding a roll of aluminum foil, and glaring at me. All her Freddy Kruger dolls had been moved from their original locations and were all surrounding her on the bed. She looked like she had assembled her army or something. I sat down at my desk to start studying and I hear this odd metallic ripping sound. I turn around and she's methodically ripping the aluminum foil into tiny pieces. One by one. And just dropping them on the floor. Never taking her eyes off me. Creeped me out something fierce.
Just so you know how this roommate from hell situation was resolved: By the time Melrose Place came on that night, my sisters had helped me moved all my stuff into another KD's room. She and I were roommates until she graduated two years later. She'll always be the sister who saved me!
