An inside joke about a fake monster in our apartment has turned into a legitimate crisis.

By @jettlol · Friends

My roommate (26M) and I (25M) invented a gremlin who lives in our laundry room to blame for lost socks. Now he's taken it so seriously that he's refusing to clean up huge messes, claiming they're "research sites.".

The full story

My roommate and I have lived together for about two years. A while back, we invented "Bartholomew," a small, sock-obsessed cryptid who lives in the weird closet space behind our dryer. It was just a dumb bit. A sock goes missing? Bartholomew took it. See a weird dust bunny? Bartholomew's shedding. It was a funny way to deal with the minor annoyances of a shared apartment. But over the last few months, my roommate has gotten... intense. Way too into the lore. He started leaving "offerings" for Bartholomew—initially just lint, but then it became single M&Ms, then entire granola bars left to go stale on the floor of the laundry closet. He bought a notebook he calls his "Field Journal" and will spend hours writing entries about Bartholomew's "observed behaviors," "migration patterns" (from the laundry room to the kitchen), and "dietary needs." He even built a tiny ladder out of popsicle sticks "to help Bartholomew reach the counters." I thought it was all just him being extra and committed to the bit, which was funny at first. Then came the incident. I got home from work on Wednesday and the kitchen was a complete disaster zone. I'm talking flour dusted over every surface, an entire jar of oregano spilled on the floor, ketchup squirted on a cabinet, and a half-eaten bag of shredded cheese in the middle of the room. It looked like a raccoon had a party. My roommate was just sitting on the couch, looking solemn. Before I could even ask what happened, he holds up a hand and says, "Bartholomew was foraging. Do not disturb the site. I need to document his methods." I honestly thought he was joking for a solid minute. He was not. He genuinely expected me to leave the kitchen a biohazard so he could "study" the mess. I told him that was insane and I'm cleaning it up. He got genuinely angry, saying I was "contaminating the evidence" and "destroying a prime research opportunity." I cleaned the kitchen anyway because I'm not living in filth for a joke. Now it's been three days of him giving me the silent treatment. He's only communicating with me through little notes he leaves around the apartment, written on scraps of paper and signed with a little paw print. Last night's note said: "Bartholomew is angered by the desecration of his feast. He requires a toll of three (3) Oreos to pass through the living room." I am losing my mind. Am I the bad guy for breaking character?

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