Pillow Talk

I have an issue with pillows. I’ve tried every one available for sale and they never seem to fit my neck, my shoulder or are unable to smother me in my sleep, which is often what I wish for when I get off the phone with my mother.

It may have started in my third year of college. I had two roommates.

Nice girls. Polite. Sweet. Pretty. One blond and one brunette. The first day we met we spent the day chatting and then when one of them decided to turn in early, she made up her bed and got a pillow out from a closet and put it on her bed. The other girl did the same.

“Where do you get the pillows?” I asked. The two girls looked at me.
“Our house.”

I hadn’t thought to bring a pillow because I thought the university handed them out, like in PRISONS. Last year, in a nationwide survey of all universities my alma mater was voted the most expensive. All that money and they couldn't afford a pillow.

“Where’s your pillow?” one of the evil bitches asked.
“Oh I never use a pillow.” (lie)
“You don’t?” One of the hideous slugs said.
“Nahhhhhhh.”
“But how do you sleep?” The horrifying face of death asked me.
“Easy.” (lie)

That night as the two spawns of Satan slept contently in their beds with their FUCKING PILLOWS, I put my head down on my mattress, stretching my neck to infinity so as to be able to reach it. I woke up looking like a giraffe and boy, how easy is it to get a boyfriend then, huh?

I spent the entire first semester without a pillow rather than admit I was a moron.

There are days I think I see brown spots on my longish neck and then I remember I’m a thousand years old.

End of chat.