I like to think of myself as a charitable person. I’m not saying I’m Mother Theresa, but if someone drops their books, I usually hope to be the first one to hit the ground to put the person’s day back together. Or you know, if my roommate was carrying heavy loads of stuff down to her car, I envision that I would turn off Gilmore Girls to assist them to their car, etc. My roommate Chloe Noelle Skidmore is more of the dog-eat-dog, Darwin is my best pal variety. I’d suspected this about her before, but finally this morning my postulations were confirmed.
As I was getting ready for school, I popped a wonderfully delicious coffee cake muffin into my mouth (made special for me by my non dog-eat-dog, but rather dog-eat-muffin home teachers), and continued with my grooming ritual. All of the sudden, unnervingly, I felt my coffee cake muffin slide from my esophagus into my trachea. It was the worst sort of feeling, the feeling of slow death by suffocation. I’m sure you have all been there. And I gave an impressive cough. A cough that lasted twenty minutes. A cough that was so loud that surely all of Provo could hear it. And did Chloe stir?
I would like to say that she just sleeps like a zombie and was completely imperturbable. I’d like to say that she had no idea that I was dying, because it would have held up much better than her argument that she just didn’t really feel like saving my life. But no, Chloe was roused, shot me a look that would have killed me if the muffin wasn’t already, that plainly said, “How dare you interrupt my slumber with your life-preservation!” I struggled over to her bed, begging for relief, pleading through my coughs for a heimlich, or maybe just a reassuring pat on the back, but did it come? No it did not. She pushed me off of her bed, where I fell to the ground in agony, forced to Heimlich myself back to life, which I did with record speed.
Still, I was determined to teach Chloe a lesson, so I feigned my death, and waited for Chloe to wake up naturally, and suffer the consequences for her inattention to my needs. When she did wake, she merely toed my shoulder to make sure that I was really dead, and then used me as a floor mat, kneeling upon me to say her morning prayers.
Later, once the jig was up and I had revealed myself to be truly alive, she wasn’t even happy or excited or relieved. She merely said,
“You weren’t dying! Besides, I could hear you coughing while my eyes were closed, but I was having the best sleep of my life.”

If anyone needs a new roommate, may I recommend Chloe Noelle Skidmore? She is so selfless.