Last year, in halls, there was a guy in the the flat below mine who was definitely roaming into fifth testicle territory. No one ever seemed to see him, he was never in any of the communal areas, but every now and then people would notice there food was gone and to add to the legend he didn't even leave behind any real cutlery to speak of. The only indication he was ever there at all, or so I heard, was the trail of paper plates and plastic sporks he left behind.
now that I think about it the image of him foraging greedily for food and then scurrying back to his room seems a little unrealistic; more than likely it was just a case of everyone's thievery needing a scapegoat, and the mythical weird housemate probably fit the bill better than most. I bet he was even a really nice guy if you were to start a conversation, maybe offering him a cup of hot chai if you're boiling the kettle. This is at least how I'm attempting, pathetically I know, to console myself now that he and I are of the same kin. Unlike him however I haven't been exiled to my room out of acute, and seemingly untreatable, shyness.
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