When I was a freshman in college, I was Wiccan majoring in art and my assigned roommate was a Southern Baptist majoring in some brand of early childhood education. We got along surprisingly well. She looked at my altar, asked some questions, and that was that. But one day she was taking a nap, and I was screwing around with some spell or other. I was holding a ritual knife in my hand (I was just using it to point at cardinal directions) when her alarm went off. And continued to go off. And go off. And go off. So finally I got up and leaned over her to snooze the alarm. While holding a knife. She woke up then, to see her weird roommate standing over her with a knife. She screamed. "No no no," I said, then made it way worse. "I'm just doing a ritual!" Commence more shrieking. I tossed the knife down and we talked. She chilled. I knew we were alright when some friends caught her bent over the table with a bunch of candles and some playing cards, and she cackled, "I HAVE EATEN THE ENTIRE PACKAGE OF PIXIE STICKS! I AM MY ROOMMATE, I AM DOING MAGIC!" Yeah. We were cool.
