So, my former roommates in all their splendor. In my last story about them, I complained how they made stuff disappear, like my food that I had been saving or my kitchen utensils when we were packing up to move out. In this story, I will tell you about how they made stuff appear.

See, these guys took everything that wasn't nailed down. To the point where they were starting their own ashtray collection from various bars, though I have no idea why they'd want to use an ashtray and then smuggle it home. They found this absolutely horrid Warholesque-looking enormous poster of a woman's torso, which they hung on the wall in our foyer -- they'd found it in the garbage behind a record store, dug it out and carried it home. When it (thankfully and blessedly) ripped in half, I took it down to the trash room in our building's basement. They went down, patched it back together and re-hung it. It ripped in other places as well, so they finally allowed me to throw it out. Well, actually, they didn't take it back out of the trash, I mean.

Either way, I came home one afternoon from work to find a new endtable sitting in the middle of our hallway. I asked one of the roommates where it came from, since it was pretty nice looking and I didn't think they'd have just gone out and bought an endtable, and he said, "Well, someone just left it in the hallway downstairs. So we took it."

I recalled my entry into the building a few minutes before, remembered that there was furniture lining the hallways and that I had thought to myself, "Hmm, I guess someone's either moving in or moving out." Then my mind connected the dots and I realized -- holy crap, these guys had just stolen someone's endtable. Were they that oblivious?

Apparently so. I bolted back down to the building's main entrance to try to catch the rightful owners and apologize profusely for my moronic roommates, but they weren't there. However, they had posted signs saying something to the effect of "whoever took our table, we weren't throwing it out -- WE WANT IT BACK, no questions asked." Thanking my lucky stars no one seemed to be around, I ran back up to the apartment, hauled the endtable back down to where it belonged, and breathed a sigh of relief. Then I went back upstairs to yell at my roommate and tell him what a stupid schmuck he was, but he just kind of shrugged it off and said, "Hey, we thought it was up for grabs."

So the moral of the story is: if anything ever disappears from your house or apartment, chances are I probably know who took it. But (thank Jeebus) I don't live with them anymore, so don't expect me to be able to get it back for you.