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Phil was a great flatmate and friend, Dan never denied that. The two of them were practically inseparable. Phil was great to live with. Sure, he had a few annoying habits like using multiple towels after showering or ransacking the snack cabinet whenever he got the chance, but Dan had learned over the years to overcome that. This new habit of Phil’s, however, was particularly irritating. Two words: cat stickers. Phil had always been obsessed with sticking cat stickers wherever he could, but the habit had now escaladed.
Recently, he had been using stickers to call “dibs”. For example, Dan was going to the fridge one day and opened it to find a cat sticker on a can of soda. Dan picked it up, puzzled.
“Phil, what is this?” he called out over his shoulder to Phil, who was sprawled on the couch.
“What do you mean by ‘this’?” he answered and got up to see what he was referring to. Dan motioned to the sticker adorned soda can. Phil laughed and took the can from his hands.
“It’s mine, I called dibs.” he explained. Dan groaned.
“Oh great, even more cat stickers are going to litter our flat. Perfect, Phil,” he grumbled. Phil just laughed and returned to his crease in the couch with the soda.
From that point on, more and more cat stickers appeared on different objects. The TV remote, the computer mouse, snacks (Jesus, there was a sticker on practically every snack in their apartment). With each new discovery of a sticker prompted a groan or an eye roll out of Dan.
“The Totoro? Really?! You already have one!” Dan complained one day. He stood at Phil’s doorway, holding up a stuffed Totoro plushie which had a large sticker of a kitten on the belly. Phil grinned and nodded.
“So? I called dibs,” he replied, to which Dan just groaned. He entered the room and sat at the foot of Phil’s bed, still holding the plushie.
“Why do you want mine, anyways? Yours is exactly the same,” he asked, placing the Totoro beside him. Phil smiled at him and held a sheet of stickers in his hand.
“I don’t like to share,” he said. Dan glanced at the sheet of stickers and groaned for what had seemed like the hundredth time this week.
“What are you gonna claim next, huh? The sofa? My room? The ceiling?” He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Phil grinned and shook his head.
“Nope,” he replied. He outstretched his hand and stuck a sticker onto Dan’s cheek, then smiled at him and slid off the bed. He walked out of the room and Dan processed the situation. He instantly turned red and he scrambled off the bed.
“Phiiil!”