What To Do When Your French Roommate Jean-Pierre Labeouf Won’t Stop Putting Cigarette Ash In Your House Plants Even Though You Specifically Asked Him Not To
Ugh, Jean-Pierre. Even saying his name makes you wince, like you just took a bite of a really shitty lemon. A lemon called Labeouf. This guy just won’t leave you alone.
You found these houseplants at a flea market in Allston, and you bought them hoping to ward off your depression and existential dread. You’ve carefully watered them everyday, and watching this living thing grow and flourish has given you hope; perhaps if it can thrive, so can you. Your mental health has improved immeasurably since your purchase of these plants, which only makes Jean-Pierre’s latest bullshit that much more devastating.
Ash. Cigarette Ash. From Gauloises, Pierre’s chosen brand of cancer sticks. He loves these cigarettes almost as much as he loves fucking with your life. It seems your soufflé was not enough for this French bastard. He’s come for your innocent plants, too. It’s his fault your relationship with Claudette is over. It will be his fault when the guillotine blade falls.
You specifically asked Jean-Pierre Labeouf not to smoke inside the house. You even more specifically asked him not to use your houseplants as ashtrays. God damn it, Jean-Pierre.