The Hot House

Green smoke puffed out of the jar and I was running around the kitchen nearly throwing up, being followed by a drift of egg-flavoured gas.

The heat in my uni halls is ridiculous. It’s like the Sahara desert in there. The Americans I live with keep moaning about the lack of fucking A.C – which I found out means air-conditioning.
The Americans talk about Great Britain like it’s some third world country. Our supermarkets are too small. Our streets are too narrow. It’s forbidden to carry pepper spray. We don’t have A.C. We don’t have Taco Bell. I used to just think they were ignorant bastards but the heat in that house, I can now kind of see their point. The other day I wanted a tuna salad and I went to get my mayonnaise and no joke it was so hot in that house the heat had penetrated the refrigerator and when I opened the lid this cloud of green smoke puffed out of the jar and I was running around the kitchen nearly throwing up, being followed by a drift of egg-flavoured gas.

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