Right now I am so mad I could boil eggs on the sidewalk.

I came home from playing outside the other day.  When I went upstairs to wash up and change my clothes, I was shocked to find this ... this ... GUY ... lying on my bed, reading one of my comic books, pretty as you please. 

When I asked who he was, he smiled smugly at me, and he said: "I live here.  Say hello to your new roomie."

When I stormed in to my parents' room, demannding answers, my mom said, "You didn't clean up your room like we asked, so we figured you'd be right at home with an equally dirty, unkempt person living in the squalor that is your bedroom. I see you have just met Joe."

Joe?  Joe Who??  I'd never seen the dude in my life.  He scared me.  He had to be at least seven feet tall in his dirty, worn out cowboy boots, and big as a mountain: he reminded me of a powrful bear.  Big, thickly muscled arms riddled with tattoos and scars, a greasy, unkempt beard flowing down the front of his chest, long, stringy grey hair, watery blue eyes, a big hawk nose, thin, greasy lips, and clothed in a ratty black "I <3 Cajun Music" shirt, stained jeans that were ripped at the knees, and a metal peace symbol necklace upon his thick neck.  He looked intimidating.

So now I had a new problem on my hands.  A guy, a guy I didn't know, had already made himself at home on my bed, and I didn't know what to do to get rid of him.  I thought my parents had gone totally off the deep end.  I didn't find their idea of a joke very funny.

I know I wasn't the neatest kid around these parts, but did my parents have to embarrass me by letting a total stranger just take over my room and over my most prized possessions??

I wasn't gonna let this go down easy.  I had to come up with a plan to get rid of Joe, permantly, without resorting to drastic measures.  I wanted my room to myself; I wanted nothing more than to tell this strange motorcycle beatnik to vacate my room.

~To be continued.~