rules for survival and some observations

"Follow these rules and you might survive long enough to move out of this shithole:
1. Never, ever, under any circumstance enter my room.
2. Don't let anyone inside, especially if it's that nosy 'repair woman.' - Psh, repair woman, my ass.
3. Don't clean the common areas. What you do in your room is your business.
4. Keep the curtains closed.
5. Don't give Mercutio table scraps - Oh, Mercutio's the mouse. Don't worry, he's just as tame as I am.
6. Don't bother me. I keep strange hours due to my job, so I probably won't be around to chat, not that I''d want to anyway."

This is the kind of shit you have to put up with when you find your roommate on Craig's List.

---

Some observations about Ethan:

1. He was a giant. Saying that he was tall would be like saying Everest was just a hill: a gross understatement. The guy was near seven foot, had to be. He wasn't beefy, kinda average, besides the height thing. His arms were long and lanky and all his jeans were cut off at the knee, probably because they'd been too short to wear as long pants.
2. He seemed like "that type" of guy, i.e: lazy, and the apartment was an absolute mess because of it. The living room was the nearest thing to an indoor cave that I have ever seen.
3. He had the faint remnants of a foreign accent. I wasn't an expert, but the best I could say was European.
4. He smoked like a chimney and was proud of it.
5. And the rat was probably the closest friend he had, because he sure talked to it like it was.

---

I went outside because there wasn't much to do inside after I'd unpacked everything. There wasn't a TV. There wasn't anything to read. And the rat had taken to watching me when he wasn't draped around Ethan's shoulder like a mangy scarf.
There was a little boy in the lobby, sitting at the front desk. He looked about eleven or twelve and he frowned at me as I passed by.
"You're new, ain't you?" he called after me.
"Yeah."
"I'm gonna need your name. It's my job to keep track of everyone around here."
I smiled at him. "Oh, really."
"Yup." He pulled on the lapels of the over-sized suit he wore. "The name's Chambers. Braxton Chambers Jr."
"Sam Marconi."
He stuck his hand in mine and pumped it up and down.
"Mind if I call you Sammy Macaroni? It sounds nicer."
I shrugged. "Sure."
"That's settled then." Braxton took the pencil from behind his ear and began writing on a piece of paper: the name "Sammy Macaroni" and a little squiggle beside it which was, presumably, a noodle.
"It's a pleasure doing business with you," he said with a wink and a nod.

---

Later, the power went out. There was a boom and then darkness, like the Big Bang Theory in reverse.
After shrieking and taking a few seconds to calm myself, I went over to the window and pulled back the curtain, just an inch, but I still couldn't see anything. No flashlights, no candles, no stars, no distant glow from the bigger, nicer city down the highway. Frowning, I pushed the curtain back all the way. Blackness. The windows were painted over. I could feel the brushstrokes in the paint beneath my fingers.
Below, I could hear people shouting to one another.
"What the hell was that?"
"It's the aliens!"
"The power's out!"
"Say, you got light over there, Dave?"
"I can't even see my own hand in fronta my face!"