Reasons why my roommate will be doing the dishes next:

The macaroni you made a few days ago, and then left, covered, in the pot on the counter?

It grew an afro.

A dirty gray-and-black afro. And I swear it spoke to me. It may just have been learning to modulate the currents of air through its fibrous nodules, but I swear it whispered, ‘…daddy!’ before I bashed its brains with a spoon and shoveled the rest into the trash.

Yeah.

Your turn.