June 28 @ 8:00 P.M.: Iris

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"What is that godawful smell?" Jayden lifted his gaze from the gigantic 54-inch Plasma TV screen on which the letters Call of Duty beckoned with its display of weaponry and bloodshed.

Aw, shucks! The boyfriend robber strikes again!

Jayden was in that I'd love to go out and socialize, but I rather stay home and play 12 hours of video games mode.

"Something..." he grunted as his widened nostrils gave him cute monkey-like features. "Something reeks!"

"Something reeks? Hey, maybe it's you, Jay-Jay." I loved teasing him, and I was not programmed to nag. "You did forget to shower today. And, if I may say so, you haven't changed your footwear since yesterday. Your Duty call did not seem to direct you to the bathroom." I pointed at the black tips of his formerly white sporty socks.

Mushy Cheerios and dried up raisins made hot sweet love on our living room floor, leaving a dubious trail up to his stinky foot.

This place wasn't just a mess—it was a friggin' disaster zone.

If one viewed it as an obstacle course designed to keep us both fit...

Or to make someone who tried to kill us trip over something and die...

It was kind of okay?

"No, it's not my socks. Not this time..." Jayden sniffed around like a well trained bloodhound. "The stench is coming from the kitchen!"

Realization struck me with its pudgy fist. "Oh no! Our dinner!" I facepalmed, leaping off my feet, tossing the tablet with the sketches on the side.

When I reached the place of a culinary disaster, quite a sight pounced on me, having been lying in wait.

Charred, carbonized remains of my culinary wonder, my honey-glazed carrots, lay shriveled and scorched in the roasting pot, emanating curly black smoke and a vomit-inducing stench.

"Our supper suffered a not-so-spontaneous combustion!" I yelled out the information, keeping at a safe distance from the incinerated legumes.

"Hey, that's okay. No worries. We can always order takeout. I'm in a mood for some pizza, if you are, babe!" Jayden bellowed back from the living room.

Pizza?

Far from my soul food, yet edible.

He was vying for the shortcut. As always.

While I wished to actually try and create something. A healthier option?

A memory of a once-upon-a-time orange veggie on a certain train waved at me somewhere from the furthest corner of my mind.

Burnt carrots don't look like a healthier option to me.

Besides, come on, Iris? You? Cook? Don't make me laugh.

I shooed the inner-Jayden thought and schlepped the carrot urn all the way to the living room, plowing my feet through the tidal wave of objects that littered the floor.

The whole apartment resembled a more modern, more expansive, and more expensive version of a...

Pigsty.

Not even a square centimeter of the once-bright red living room carpet peeked out from under the domestic detritus.

Tiptoeing my way across the crowded floor, I bypassed several Nike underpants, sweaty Lacoste t-shirts, and a pair of smelly Lewis jeans.

Gross! But I didn't want to be a part of a Jayden makes mess-I clean up-rinse and repeat scheme anymore.

That's why I had performed a test drive. I wanted to see how long he would endure without me tidying up after him, and finally pick stuff by himself.

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