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  • Writer's pictureBroadway Beat

Laura Wingfield’s Influence? Man Can’t Stop Using Glassware, Leaving Them a Quarter Full in His Room

by Blaise Wopperer. @blaisewopperer.

ASTORIA, Queens - Unable to locate a single clean glass in the kitchen cupboard for a week now, local man Jake Stampen is now fully accusing random roommate Max Prissert of channeling Laura Wingfield by hoarding the communal glassware and letting the accumulation grow into a private, bedroom menagerie.


“I didn’t want to say it, but that guy Max cannot, for his fucking life, bring the glasses back to the kitchen and wash them,” stated Stampen while drinking water straight out the Brita. “At first I thought maybe he was an extremely sensitive, young man who needs to surround himself with an assortment of glass objects, to which he attends with great care - until I finally realized he’s just a hoarder who cannot return the mold-riddled cups to the sink.”


Matthew Torres, second random roommate, voiced a similar dissatisfaction with Prissert.


“Max literally sleeps through his alarm for one hour every morning – and for some reason, it’s this strange customized alarm tone of an angry male voice screaming the name ‘Stella,’” claimed Torres, twitching from sleep loss, and just looking generally unwell.


“At first I thought the noise was a voice coming from some desperate lover on the street below,” he continued, while figuring out a comfortable way to hold his head underneath the kitchen sink faucet. "Until it finally dawned upon me that he just doesn’t know how to wake up and turn off his fucking alarm.”


Zak Biggins, third random roommate, also expressed confusion around Prissert’s recent behavior.


“Max has this habit of turning the central heat to about 100 degrees and just letting it run endlessly,” stated Biggins, while lapping water out of a cereal bowl. “At first I thought he needed to be constantly meteorologically transported to the sweltering heat of the Mississippi Delta, since it's the only climatic condition he’s ever known to exist - if he were, let’s just say, someone created in the eyes of a playwright who writes a lot about the South. Then it finally hit me: he’s actually just a psychopath, racking up my ConEd bill.”


When asked to comment, Prissert declined, claiming to have been in a hurry for work, because “the ‘7’ streetcar was running only local stops."


He then flat-out refused to explain why he insists on calling them "streetcars."

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