I'm not sure it qualifies as a horror story, but my freshman year roommate in college was a disaster. He was a pot smoker, and not merely an occasional one. He smoked everyday--a lot. I, on the other hand, was squeaky clean (f*ck, I've still never tried marijuana). In addition, he had very, very doting parents who liked to call him all the time, which including calling every morning around 7 to wish him a good day. So, not only was our phone line constantly tied up (this is before everyone had a cell phone), but I also never got enough sleep (he, of course, also had a habit of staying up until 2 or 3 in the morning to smoke more pot). They were completely oblivious to his drug use and sent him a couple extra hundred dollars whenever he was running low. He'd tell them he needed books or supplies. Of course, since he was using that money, plus the cash he started the semester with, to buy pot, he wound up unable to pay his part for our shared furniture and appliances. My parents, preferring I get along with my roommate and not cause tension, sent me extra money to pay for the stuff (a microwave, television, refrigerator, rug, etc.). So, in effect, they too wound up funding his pot smoking. Oh, and he didn't bring the stuff he agreed to when we moved in. My parents and I lugged the TV, microwave, and refrigerator, up from Maryland, while he was supposed to bring the carpet. I figured that was somewhat fair given that a rolled-up carpet would be very unwieldy. However, when I moved in, there was no rug to be found: just a 5x3 mat placed alongside his bed that said something like "Believe in Yourself." Oh, and how could I forget: I had signed up to live with a non-smoker because I had asthma. He reported himself as not smoking because he didn't want his parents to know about his cigarette and marijuana habits. So, I had to leave the room a lot, or otherwise weeze and cough myself to sleep. Everyone, including the R.C.s knew he was always smoking pot in the dorm, which was strictly prohibited. They didn't want to report anything themselves, not wanting to fall out with the dorm unit, and advised that I could if I really wanted to. In retrospect, I should have, as his habits and behavior were seriously disrupting both my studying and my health. However, I didn't want to be "that guy." So, I let things be. I'm sure he hated my guts, too. I was the only person in the dorm who matched his SAT score, which meant he couldn't as easily posture his superior intelligence around me. Plus, I'm sure he viewed me as a hopeless loser since I actually wanted to study and do well. If he liked me, he probably wouldn't have thrown a party in our dorm room over the weekend I had to fly home for my uncle's funeral and let everyone eat all the food my mom had sent me from home or allow a couple to have sex in my bed. I was f*cking furious and let him have it, threatening to tell his parents about his lifestyle (he got straight C's first semester but lied and said they were A's and B's). He acquiesced and said that it wouldn't happen again. Well, at that point, I was ready to request a room change or report him. But before I could do either, he announced to me that he was moving out. I was thrilled. Then a couple days later, his mother called--to talk to me. Speaking very compassionately, she said she was sorry things didn't work out and that I shouldn't take it personally. It was just that her son was a hard worker and not used to living with someone like me. All my partying and drug use was distracting from his academic career and he was going to go to law school at Harvard or Yale, so he had to be prepared. Before I could burst into hysterical laughter or begin ranting about what an idiot of a parent she was, she hung up. When he moved out, he said as a token of good will, I could keep the TV, refrigerator, and rug. Cruel as it may sound, it was to my great satisfaction when I learned that he had been suspended for the first semester of sophomore year due to failing grades. He wound up skipping that whole year and came back to join the class below us. It wound up taking him 6 years to graduate. Needless to say, he never went to Harvard or Yale Law.