Kruschev

So the kids in the lounge fucked with my door and I for the early part of the year. I eventually got over it, started to laugh at the mayonnaise-filled condoms on the door handle, began referring to three of the four lounge-dwellers as "best friend." The fourth lounge dweller, whom we will refer to as Kruschev or K for short, was never that much fun. So the other guys in the lounge openly make fun of me but I am in on the joke; it is acceptable, it's our pastime, it helps us remain sane. Kruschev takes it upon himself to openly be a dick not just to me but everyone else on our floor - and he's serious about it too. Kruschev makes it known, by way of a fuck you or hey stupid, that he is not happy to see you in the hallway or the elevator. When I am invited by the other lounge-dwellers into their stupid fucking quad room to have a discussion regarding lounge/floor relations, Kruschev turns off the lights in an effort to get me to leave. Unrelated, Kruschev takes it upon himself to place stickers of the anonymous skate shop that (presumably) sponsors him everywhere, making the asshole ever present no matter where you are. Stop sign at 13th and Berks: stupid fucking sticker. Train station: stupid fucking sticker. Elevator: stupid fucking sticker.

Kruschev is the only person that is unanimously disliked by the good-natured people of the floor.

Saturday night Branmuffin and I thought it was a good time to get the lounge. It'd been a few weeks since the last incident between their door and mine, things were getting too quiet. Unbeknownst to me, the three loungers I was on decent terms with had left for the weekend. Kruschev was holding down the fort with some people we'd never met before and a girl on our floor who is rarely not in the lounge. Branmuffin and I acquired peanut butter and smeared it on their doorhandle. There was a bit too much commotion because the girl came out to confront us. We fled before there could be consequences. We came out of hiding and about seven minutes later, there's Kruschev spitting (he has a tendency to do this rather than talking) at me in front of the elevators.
"Stop putting shit on my fucking door!"
"You do it to my door all the time."
"No I don't!"
"Yes you do."
"That's the other three!"
"Well?"
"Stop it because I have to clean it up! Sick of it!"
(walks away)
"Wow, I forgot you're the nicest guy any of us have ever met, forgive me!"

I was proud, he pretty much looked like the asshole we always made him out to be. Then I started to feel bad. Then I started writing an apology in my head because I remembered the day before, Kruschev had tried to get in on the whole "best friend" thing I have with the other three. I pretty much blew him off. So now I felt like the dick. Until tonight when I saw the ever-present lounge queen. We are always more than civil to each other. I thought I'd ask her thoughts. Was I as much a dick as I felt I was? Apparently not. Kruschev thinks everyone on the floor is fucking stupid and hates the way everyone acts (conformists, gah, sk8board angst!) and frankly she does too. Well then, fuck you.