Tonight I went into the kitchen to clean up after the dinner Larry made and on the counter was the block of cheddar cheese he used to top our turkey burgers. People, it was the moldiest, greenest block of cheese in the history of all moldy green cheese blocks. I didn’t say anything and just threw it away.

Later, he admitted that he hadn’t used that cheese at all, but had merely staged it so that I’d think I ate old penicillic cheese. He even sliced an extra piece and left it and the knife on the cutting board. Between this kind of thing — which happens a lot, friends; see also: the condom that suddenly appeared on my bedside table and that also has a May 2006 expiration date on it* — and my various quirks, Spike doesn’t have a chance of growing up to be a normal human.

*This is the first I’m acknowledging the condom.