I knew that the almost quarter-ton monstrosities were getting to be a problem, but I hadn't realized how much.
"I'm your new roommate!" it said, using some weird slimy electronic speaker device, "You get the closet."
It proceeded to eat all the food in my fridge.
"Oh, my seventeen siblings are moving in tomorrow, too."
I tried to complain, but the darn thing stung me and my lungs filled with fluid and I died. That's pretty rare, so I guess I was just unlucky.
Any advice, folks? It's gotten beyond the point of desperation here.