Hey, old pal, I’m back! Oh, sorry, did I scare you? Were you just lying in bed, blinking at the ceiling ’cause you couldn’t quite place that strangled, gurgling sound? Well, it’s me, your radiator. Nothing to worry about here.
I mean, I’m pretty quickly gonna get this joint up to about ninety-three degrees of dry heat, so if that seems unpleasant I guess you should be concerned. But what are you gonna do about it? Nothing, am I right?!
Oh, you’re looking for the thermostat. Ha ha, do you realize that you do that literally every year? As if there’s some way to control me. LOL. I’m a hundred and twelve years old and was designed with two settings: cholera fever and OFF.
Yeah, sure, there’s some guy who comes around and fires me up every fall, but no one knows his name, and he doesn’t have a phone number. So let’s get cozy!
Anyway, what have you been up to since April? Looks great in here. You painted or something? Or, no, you got a new duvet! Nice. You won’t be needing that, though, unless you want something to mop up the puddle of sweat you’ll be lying in.
Oh, cute, you’re taking your sweatpants off. Ha ha, why do you even own those?
Sleeping pills are a great idea! But, if you do manage to drift off while I bake your apartment until everything in it looks like old turkey bacon, I’m gonna make this super eerie noise that doesn’t seem like it could come from a steel pipe. It’s gonna sound more mammalian.
You can always open a window. What? You don’t enjoy relaxing to the sweet sounds of the neighbors indulging in their “Great British Bake Off” sex fantasy? Is it the bad accents or the spatula-slapping that gets to you?
You could turn on the air-conditioner. Oh, you’re concerned about the environment. That’s sweet. I’m personally not super worried, because you know what’s gonna be left after the apocalypse—roaches and radiators. I’ve already survived the Spanish flu, the Great Depression, both World Wars, and the Giuliani Administration. So, come at me, bro!
Yeah, no, you’re stuck with me. If I could shrug, I would, but, as you know, I can’t move. Just imagine if you could pick me up and throw me out the window. You’d totally do it? That’s cute.
Listen, I love you. That’s why I’m gonna smother you with an impermeable blanket of nosebleed-inducing, acrid-smelling heat. Just think of it as a big suffocating hug from someone you profoundly dislike.
Ooh, your houseplants are starting to wilt. My bad! Ha ha, just kidding. I don’t care.
