I don’t know if I’m a strange person, but strange situations sure do seem to find me. When I was 19 and staying in student housing I had two other roomates and each was a cryptid in entirely different ways, and I came out of the house having learned a good lesson. Lemme tell you about how I met the first one. I met him for the first time in the middle of the night in the common room, slumped in a rolling chair, on more ketamine than I could even imagine. He goes “please.. please help me get back to my room. I can’t move..” Not wanting to look like a square in front of a guy who surely had enough drugs in his system for a whole frat party, I do, and what I saw still haunts me. Floor to ceiling is stacked, covered, practically wallpapered with all manner of illegal drugs labeled in equally various languages. “Dude..” he goes. “You can’t tell anybody about this or the cops gonna raid the house, can I trust you?” I have been a member of this household for an entire five minutes remember? Naturally I respond “nobody will ever know”. And I never told anybody, well except for you reading this, but we’re cool right?