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By Jon BoisA friend calls you up: “Hey, listen man. There’s this buddy of mine coming into town, his name’s Julian. I know this is sort of coming out of nowhere, but you have an extra bedroom in your apartment, right? Is there any way he’d be able to crash there for a while? He’d definitely be able to chip in on rent and stuff.”You think about it for a moment. It would be nice to cut down on the bills a little. “Yeah, what the hell, man. That’s fine. Julian, right?”“Yep. He does computer stuff, forgot what exactly. I’d put him up myself, but I uh… Thanks, man. I appreciate it. He’s in town Wednesday.”Two days later, you arrive home from work to find the door to your apartment completely obscured by furniture, the front porch littered with bulging garbage bags. You peer around a wardrobe and see a man listlessly pressing a coat hanger into your deadbolt lock. “Hey, man. Are you Julian?”“Yeah. You weren’t home, so I figured I’d just try to jimmy the lock thing.” You look closer. He has not bent the coat hanger in any fashion. He is simply trying to fit the rounded top of the hanger’s hook into the keyhole, his face set in a determined grimace.“You any good at picking locks?” You reach in your pocket. “I, uh, have a key for it.”“Oh shit!” Julian grabs the keys out of your hand and tries every key on the ring, one by one. “It’s the one that says ‘Kwikset’ on it, if you want to look on the…” Julian does not answer. Finally, he finds the right key and the door unlocks. Julian waves you over. “Listen close.” He locks and unlocks the door again. “Hear that?”
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Julian has used a custom script to endlessly loop a YouTube video of a 60-second Remy Martin commercial. You twist the doorknob. It’s locked.
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