PWW (Pushy White Woman)

Chance squinted at the note on his door:

"Hey, I left the silverware and the plates in the sink. There's some dishwashing soap on the counter."

In a brisk motion, he snatched the note from his door, and entered his tiny room inside the 4 bedroom apartment. He wasn't about to deal with this bullshit right now.

 He tossed his computer bag on top of a heap of dirty clothes and nonchalantly eyed his disheveled unmade bed. Remembering that he was still waiting for his producer to call and let him know if Rixi would be doing the morning show, he switched his phone onto its highest ringer setting, and placed it in the wall charger. He looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly 11:30pm and remembered that he hadn't eaten since the lunch spread at Rixi's AOL sessions video shoot, which had only ended an hour ago downtown. He was hungry.

He departed his room and walked along the long corridor. He passed two of his roommates' bedrooms and noted that their lights were out. Perhaps they were already asleep.  He could hear that the television in the living room was on, and he went to see who was there.

He was vaguely annoyed to find that someone had carelessly left the large consol on,  and he saw that "The Bionic Woman" was blaring on one of the oldies cable channels. His roommates loved that sort of ancient cheap television. 

Chance went to the kitchen, and flicked on the light.  In the corner of his eye, he saw a  three tiny roaches scamper out of sight on the counter, behind the blender and the toaster.  Opening the refrigerator, he looked for the steak he'd bought the week before. He needed to cook it before it expired anyway.

 It took him several blinks to realize that everything had been entirely rearranged. 

His designated shelf had been scoured, and there was nothing left except a peach that he'd bought, and a single yogurt carton.  He looked at the other shelves, and opened the bins at the bottom of the unit. His steak was nowhere to be found.

Chance was beginning to feel annoyed. To sooth his nerves, he took a deep breath, and decided that someone must have made a mistake and eaten it. These things happened. He'd have to order something. 

He stood up, closed the refrigerator, and sighed in resignation. As he turned to retreat to his room and call for a pizza, he froze. 

There on the counter were 9 bottles.   Lysol Spray, Pamolive, All Purpose Scrubbing Bubbles, Generic Brand Amonia, Cascade Ultra wipes, Dawn Concentrated Dish Cleanser, Greenworks DishCare, WindexDish, and Finish Soap wash. By these cleaning products stood a mountain of new sponges and rags, all still in their plastic wraps. 

Above the sink was a sign in the same handwriting as that which had been on his door. This one read:

"Chance: Wash me," with an arrow pointing down into the sink which had the dishes that he had used from that morning.

Chance was pissed. Who the hell did Mandy think she was, anyway? So what she'd been in the apartment the longest, did that mean that she had to be such a bitch? 

Mandy had for some time made opaque references to the fact that "people" needed to clean better to combat the roach siege they were under. "People" also needed to clean because it was unfair for "other people" to have to clean after them. "People" just needed to do better.

 He contemplated how it was that his name had become the face "people" in the apartment. He was almost certain, however, that he was never "other people." 

God Dammit. This Pushy White Woman (PWW) was RACIST. Yes, that was it. She clearly had no regard for his negritude and was singling him out. How could it be that HE was the one responsible for the roach issue? 

What really stoked Chance's ire was that he had SCRUBBED the dishes that morning! ALL of them, including those left by his other roommates!

Suddenly a thought hit him, and he became positively irate. Had she thrown out his steak?  Was that the meaning of her announcement last night that "people" needed to make sure not to leave around food that might go bad because it could cause "other people" to get sick? Had she been WARNING him in a roundabout way?!

That passive aggressive bitch! That steak had at LEAST one more day before it was going to go bad! Why, he was going to tell Mandy exactly what he felt about her.  He didn't care if she was asleep, he had to get this off his chest.

He stormed out of the kitchen and began marching toward her room down the hall. Suddenly, he heard his phone ring in his room. He raced to get it.

"Oh, hey Cam.  Naw, I'm still up, no worries. Fox 5? alright. Yes, of course. See you then, bye"

 Chance hung up the phone and massaged the beginnings of an unkempt beard on his face. Rixi was going to do the morning show after all, so he'd have to be on set by 4am. 

He closed his eyes for a moment. What was it he was about to do? Ah, right. Wake up Mandy and curse her out. He stood up for a moment, and then sat back down. He realized that he wasn't hungry anymore. He was just tired. 

Wearily , Chance looked about his room and a laugh, unbidden, came forth from him.  The place was an absolute pig sty.  Dirty clothes, filthy old dishes, and papers strewn everywhere. The very air in the small space had the musk of sweaty unwashed gym clothes.

Chance lay down on his bed, fully clothed. He'd have to be up soon enough anyway.  As he drifted to sleep, he resolved to buy a steak for tomorrow night. Yes. Yes, and he would eat it right away.