I used to live alone in a McPartment – one of those massive apartment complexes with too many buildings and boring architecture. They basically looked like something out of an Old Navy commercial. Worse yet, it was across the street from a stadium, meaning traffic always got terrible whenever there was a game or any event. I moved into the bottom floor of a duplex in a more residential area and got a roommate. He’s an old buddy of mine from college, but he did go to my high school and middle school, though I didn’t know him too well then. He just told me a couple stories that I think you need to know about.

In high school, his mom cooked fish for dinner one night and he asked her to save some of it – it looked like too much food. The next day, he threw the raw fish in the hallway before the bell rang and freaked everyone out. No one knew it was him.

Another time, he and a couple guys were bored one day and got a hold of some chickens. We’re talking live chickens here. Wings, beaks, feathers, the whole deal. There were three in all. They stuffed the chickens in their backpacks, went to school, and transferred the birds into three adjacent and empty lockers. Five minutes before the bell rang, they asked their respective teachers to be released from class a little early and made way for the lockers, opening them just before classes let out. There, in the hallway, were three squaking chickens, and students poured out of their classes just in time to greet the confused birds strutting around the hall. Pandemonium ensued.

He is now an accountant.