Poop Shute

I have a roommate named Brian.

Brian is one of my oldest and dearest friends.

Brian sometimes talks in his sleep. Sometimes talks A LOT in his sleep.

This morning as I was getting ready to leave the house for rehearsal I happened to be walking past his bedroom door when he shouted something strange.

Brian: Holy s**t! Holy s**t!

Joey: (knocking) Brian? You okay?

Brian: Did I type nine minute piss on the... torturing device? (long pause, wherein I am dumbfounded) Does that make sense?

Joey: No.

Brian: (long pause, a big sigh) I'm probably freaking out about nothing.

And that was all.

This is not the best story though, only the most recent. The best story happened in high school. Brian, Nick and I were all up late at Nick's house talking until about three or four in the morning. Brian nodded off on Nick's bed, but Nick and I continued to chat on the floor.

One of us was in the middle of a sentence when Brian sat bolt upright and began looking around the room with an intense confusion. Nick and I were speechless. Had we interrupted his slumber? Was he going to be a grouch and tell us to shut up? He did neither.

What he did do was look back and forth from Nick and I about four times and then as if to end a lengthy debate, he uttered two simple words:

F**k it.

And then he went back to sleep. The next morning he had no recollection of the event at all. Much like today.

I imagine that their is some way I could capitalize on this. Some way I could use this quirk to my advantage. Like some kind of sideshow thing or something. Sell tickets to Brian's bedroom. Hmmm....

Although, scheduling that would be a nightmare seeing as how his sleep habits are about as predictable as lightning strikes.