A Dangerous Living Arrangement

Scarlett Johansson is living in my basement. She’s hiding inside a tiny corner of my utility closet. I didn’t notice her at first, because she was very quiet and unobtrusive. A few days ago, though, I had to go downstairs to check on some pipes. After I turned on the light and moved my face closer to the floor, I caught a peek. I was startled at the sight of her, but I think she was more scared than I was during the whole interaction. As soon as she noticed my presence, she scurried away, escaping under a piece of wood at the corner of the closet. I went about my business and, I assume, she went about hers, then we both went our separate ways. I mean, I went my separate way and she stayed there.

A few days later, I went back downstairs and opened up the closet. There she was, a few inches away from where’d she gone to escape me the first time. I thought if I’d let her be, she might rest a bit and travel along. Nope. She’s taken up residence. Turns out, I don’t have a guest, I have a roommate.

Since we were apparently going to be spending some together, I took a closer look at how she was keeping up her portion of the home. She’d done some redecorating, and it wasn’t quite to my taste, but everyone has their own preferences. I let it go. Until I saw that she’d brought a friend to stay with her. I was just getting used to have one additional roommate. I wasn’t sure I was ready to have four of us living in this house. I tried to meet this new friend, who looked like a smaller version of Scarlett, but he wasn’t moving. At all. I was beginning to think this fourth roommate was a little too quiet, if you know what I mean.

After some further investigation, I determined that he was, in fact, too quiet. He was dead. ScarJo had either brought a dead friend into her new home (I know I said I was open to other opinions on decor, but this was taking it too far) or she’d lured a friend into her room and killed him (While there’s no specific no-murder clause in most leases, I feel like it’s a fair expectation). This was getting serious. I was starting to think my new roommate wasn’t so kind and unassuming after all.

I haven’t confronted her about the incident. Who can say how she’d react? I think it’s clear she’s capable of a violence I’m just not sure I can defend myself against, so I decided it’s safest to calmly maintain status quo. I’m a bit uncomfortable with the arrangement, but she’s laid her cards on the table—and she most definitely has the upper hand. I’m not the one who sleeps next to the carcass of my best friend.

So I have officially stepped down. ScarJo is now the boss-lady of the house.

The shorter way to tell this story would be to say we have a black widow living in our basement and we named her Scarlett Johansson.*

*Yes, this was the cheap way out name-wise, but the new comic-book movie trend really is infiltrating all aspects of our lives.

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