Most of the time, I try to choose my words carefully, but I don’t think any amount of waiting to “cool off” can allow me to voice my indignation in a kinder manner. Spencer, you’re the Boss and I love you to death, but you would never make it in the rental business. Evicting a faithful resident without advance notice so that you can house someone like Morningstar is poor form, and inexcusable. What the hell is wrong with you? Couldn’t you have found a better place for your new buddy to crash for the weekend?
Granted, I’m not usually one to turn down a patient, but this is ludicrous. You may have him under double locks, but consider this: if he breaks the lock on the first room, even if he doesn’t escape into the house to murder us all in our sleep, there will still be a raging madman loose in my home. I keep all of our medical supplies and records, as well as all of my belongings, in various parts of the basement. Your eagerness to toss him down there has made me think that you don’t understand why this is bad, so let me put it this way: imagine, for just a moment, that I decided to bring a rabid wolverine into the East Wing and tell you that you could not go back for a then-undetermined period of time while said rabid wolverine “detoxed.” You’d have no way of knowing if the wolverine was doing damage to your things: all you’d hear is its scratching, howling, and crying. For all you know, it’s peeing on your bed and ruining the carpets. Running its claws through the drapes, chewing on the furniture, doing unmentionable things to the horrors that lurk in that place. You would be understandably pissed, just as I am now. I slept in August’s room for part of last night, but the poor boy couldn’t sleep with me in there. I’m going to seek alternate housing until this all blows over.
I won't be far. Please don't look for me unless it's an emergency.