Mr. Zelda, you are not helping?

Okay, Thumbtacks on the wall. That’s what I do, I thumbtack things on the wall and Mr. Zelda says that I should not use thumbtacks, that we have hanging stuff. I say, what the fuck are you talking about, I can thumbtack if I want.
He also says to me, why do you have to put all those books in a stack in the corner, and I say because I can. Pisses him off.
Then he says, I can’t believe you bought all those groceries and didn’t buy any cookies and I say you nor I need cookies, eat a carrot.
His favorite question of the day, where are my shoes.
Geeze, I’m living with a fucktard.
I’m hurling, standing in the bathroom, retching, my insides are coming apart, and he steps to the door and says, you sick. No fuckwit, I’m standing here exercising my gag reflex.
He takes me to the doctor and I’m coming out of the valium induced coma and I hear him tell the doctor, no, she is still drinking coffee. I mumble something; he says, what, I say, you’re an asshole. He tries to explain that I am just under the influence of drugs, and I finally get my lips to work and I say, no, you’re an asshole. I am not still drinking coffee.
I lie, but that’s not the point.
Finally, I’m putting my socks on and he says, have you gained weight? No comment here, I think you guys all know what I was wanting to say, if I were not gasping for air while curled up in this ridiculous position, trying to put my socks on.