[ YOU are minding your own business. It's about 10 PM, and your ROOMMATE has been… somewhere. Who knows. You BOTH mind your own business almost all the time. Your ROOMMATE is pretty chill, and has said that YOU, too, are pretty chill.

But. But but but.

It seems there has been something strange going on for a few weeks, and it MIGHT have something to do with your ROOMMATE. But, it bears repeating, YOU minded your own business because the strangeness — “which might not even exist,” YOU thought — has absolutely nothing to do with YOU. It's all your ROOMMATE’s business.

So it's about 22:22 — a new, aesthetic time on the clock (do YOU care about that? your ROOMMATE likes it) — and YOU are minding your business. Your ROOMMATE bursts in, and is not chill. ]

ROOMMATE: O there's something living in my skin, it's made its way into my veins! It's a colour very nice to see, the colour same as the shirt I wear. It's cold, it's colder than it was before, and it's never going to be as cold as this again. O WELL!!! Oh well.

YOU: Hm. It is pretty cold. Especially with that sudden dip in temperature, after such unusual heat. The weather gets weirder every year.

ROOMMATE: (did not listen to what YOU just said) भई। भाईीीीीीीीी। There's something living in my skin, that's my main problem right now.

YOU: Oh, that's–

ROOMMATE: I think it's hoarding up all the oxygen in my blood for itself & letting none of it ever reach my brain ever again. Or is it pumping MORE oxygen up there & that's why it's all like this & hyperactivity & grand amounts of everything, everything, everything?

YOU: I get the sense that this might not be a medical problem (you neglect to mention your knowledge — which may not exist — की सब मोह-माया है, और अभी ये हो सकता है की आपके ROOMMATE को ये मोह-माया कि सचाई पूरी तरह से समझ में आ गई है, इस लिए ऐसी हरकत कर रही है। ये भी हो सकता है की उन्हें बस ज्ञान पेलने का मन है इसलिए अब आप पे चीख रहे है, या फिर ये हो सकता है की असलियत जान ने से इनका दिमाग ज़रा सटका गया, लेकिन आज-कल सब ही लोग ज़रा पागल है। सब को ही पता है की सब कुछ मोह-माया है, सब को पता है की जिंदगी में दर्द ही दर्द है, और फिर कुछ लोग इसके बारे में सोचना छोर देते है — बस काम से काम रखो, दर्द और मौत के बारे में क्यों रोना? सरदर्द! लेकिन फिर कुछ लोग सोच-सोच के पागल हो जाते है; हो सकता है की ROOMMATE ने ये दूसरी चीज़ करी हो, लेकिन इस चीज़ के बारे में आप से क्यों बात करेंगे? What happened to minding your own business? असलियत तो कुछ भी नही, सब को उस से घुटन होती है। लेकिन हो सकता है की ROOMMATE को किसी के साथ घुटन खेलने का मन हो, देखते है) but also, there's a chance that it is just medical, so maybe consider seeing a doctor.

ROOMMATE: No, no no no no. Who knows, who's to say. But look at the walls, though. Look at them.

YOU: (deciding to just let your ROOMMATE go on this rant, as YOU do not have anything better to do & this room isn't real anyway, so YOU may as look at its nonexistent walls; they are normal, whitewashed with normal wear & tear) …

ROOMMATE: They're slightly discolored, right? That's normal in this season, you may think, that's normal because it's raining so heavily you can't go out without the sky grabbing you by the face and making you chug each drop of rainwater one by one by one. But. But but but. Living in my skin you'll find the same thing that discolours those walls. And it is not what YOU might think, because YOU know the problem with you? YOU DON'T think, YOU have never thought, and it's so bad that it's at the point where YOU go & think of ANYONE who thinks even the SLIGHTEST BIT as being crazy. (आपने पहले जो सोचा था वो हो सकता है गलत है। ROOMMATE को घुटन है, ये सही है, लेकिन ये किसी और के साथ अपना दर्द नही बाटेंगे। इन में ज़्यादा ही घमंड है। अकेले घुटन झेलेंगे, मरेंगे भी अकेले ही।) That's the problem with YOU, and that's why YOU need to inject this fungus into your veins.

YOU: (somehow, not offended, because YOU too have something severely wrong with YOU which makes YOU just put up with things like this & also YOU are simply curious about the fungus) I don't like needles, though. How about–

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

ROOMMATE: And I may CALL it fungus, but look at the shirt I'm wearing. Too late. It's light green, right? It's also about as close to fungus as the thing in my veins. Or the stuff on the walls. It's not natural. The stuff on the walls, I mean. The shirt is probably at least somewhat natural, especially seeing as it's merging into my torso (because of the ‘fungus’) and if it's part of me, it's part of something natural… assuming I am natural anymore…

[ ROOMMATE stares into the distance, seeming distressed. YOU feel concerned & decide to be a little kind. ]

YOU: (soft-spoken, gentle) Well, everything comes from nature, right? Think about it. LEven chemicals synthesized in a lab, which are what people usually think of when they think “unnatural”, even the base ingredients for those ultimately come from nature. So even synthesized substances could be said, ultimately, to be natural. Honestly speaking, it doesn't matter if you're natural or unnatural or something in between. You're still a person, and the people who truly love you (not me) would consider it a net good that you are here. Even if you ARE unnatural, you still have worth & value. And you are loved.

( silence for a few seconds )

YOU: Oh, and for what it's worth, I think you're pretty chill most of the time. That wouldn't change even if you were unnatural. So don't worry, it's okay.

( another minute of silence )

ROOMMATE: (didn't listen to all that क्योंकि दीवार कि बात सुन रहे थे) OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY, COOL, but anyway, take the fungus. TAKE IT. Take it into your hands.

YOU: (suddenly growing a spine, which pierces through your back so suddenly you stumble from the impact, as well as from the weight of the new bone matter) No.

ROOMMATE: No no no, scrape it off the wall NOW. I don't see why you're grossed out by it.

YOU: I'm not.

ROOMMATE: Are you grossed out by model replicas of bugs & lizards, too? They're not real & they won't hurt you. Your disgust response is — though entirely natural — also completely fucking stupid. YOU need to fix it. And YOU know how YOU can start fixing it? By taking the fungus.

YOU: (your pride says no because this is too much disrespect, but your curiosity takes priority & your spine is falling out now anyway; YOU scrape the fungus off, injecting it into your veins & licking some of it directly off the wall just for good measure; some blood from your injuries gets on the wall but you ignore it) Okay, done.

ROOMMATE: Okay, cool, now you’ll actually get what I'm saying.

YOU: I (don't) hope so.

ROOMMATE: Anyway, there could/should be an explanation for this, but there isn't. And my appetite is completely gone (fungus?) and I want to puke at how every single person (ROOMMATE has ignored every other person's present nonexistence) seems suspicious & harbouring ulterior motives, despite the fact की वैसे किसी ने कुछ अजीब करा नही है, कुछ ज़्यादा गलत भी नही। लेकिन किसी को मेरी बात समझ में नहीं आती और मुझे उनकी बात समझ नही आती, और हम इस सब में क्या करे? ये fungus में लेकिन कुछ लिखा हुआ है, दीवार पे कुछ लिखा है। कोई देख रहा है — पता नही कौन, किस को पता होगा वो भी नही मालूम — लेकिन कोई तो देख रहा है और वो इस दीवार के साथ मेरे से बात कर रहा है। कुछ समझाने की कोशिश कर रहा है। समझ में आया? Do YOU get it?

YOU: No, no I don't think I really get it. Also, my back really hurts.

ROOMMATE: Hm. Must be your posture. And I hate that YOU don't get it & it honestly makes me want to punch something. (looks at your spine jutting out, slowly getting detached & falling off) And no one deserves the pain of THAT.

YOU: Haha, true.

ROOMMATE: So yeah, no, fuck it. I don't have a roommate anymore.

YOU: (pops out of existence)

ROOMMATE: OK OK OK OK OK, okay cool cool cool, I can go & die alone now. That's it. That's all. That's all that is needed. We are done. We're done! I'm done. हो गया। हो गया। बस। Done. I'm done with everything. हो गया, बहनचोद, सब हो गया और सब खत्म और सब हो गया, मेरा यहा जो भी काम था सब हो गया। (ये बात वैसे इन्होने सच बोली, क्योंकि इनका इस scene में बस बक-बक करने का काम था और वो खत्म हो गया है; ये अब सच में बकचोदी खत्म कर ले तो अच्छा होगा) It's all done. It's done. We're done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done. All done.

[ Your ROOMMATE dies alone. घमंड। Or maybe not? Maybe just pops out of existence, same as you? The room didn't exist, YOU already knew that. Now YOU don't exist either. And I honestly doubt that the ROOMMATE would be the only real out of EVERYTHING in this scenario. I mean, out of all things! Regardless though, YOU and the ROOMMATE are pretty chill, as stated in the beginning. Scene ends. ]