Rat Bastard

A couple of months after J-Fed moved into his apartment, he decided to order an expensive bedroom set for our 5-year-old. I was impressed that he had enough foresight to realize that she couldn’t sleep on the couch forever. He wanted to borrow one of the dog kennels, but I told him that would probably give daughter a backache and it might raise a red flag with child services if they ever found out.

All kidding aside, he realized that she needed her own bedroom and he took the necessary steps… until it came time for the furniture to be delivered. In true J-Fed fashion, he made sure that the furniture was delivered on a day when he would be at the race track driving around his little go carts. He also knew that I’d feel obligated to wait in his apartment for the furniture to arrive since it was for daughter. I guess he didn’t mind the notion of having me snoop around his apartment while he was gone, which is precisely what I did.

For the first half hour, I went through a pile of receipts and calculated the amount of tips he had left for various bartenders. I grew angrier by the minute when I realized this money could very well be going to the kids prepaid college funds. I proceeded to leave him a nice itemized list of my calculations written in black sharpie, along with a big fat “Screw off you bum” written next to it.

Once I searched the premises for condoms, lace underwear and any other evidence, I felt my job there was done. Unfortunately, the delivery guys still hadn’t shown up. This gave me more time to kill so I decided to do a load of daughter’s laundry in his shiny new washer and dryer.