[ My roommate Erika wrote this story about a year ago. I laugh my ass off every time I read it. I guess this is Tanim and Daren from a psychology major’s perspective. It’s probably more realistic than anything I write. ]
Tanim was really worried about Daren. He had been acting so weird lately, talking to himself and speaking of weird things; sometimes he was even incomprehensible. He seemed so far away and distant. He kept talking about death, how it was inevitable for everyone, how everyone dies alone. Sometimes he would get worked up, flitting around rambling about death, timing, and responsibility. Most of it didn’t make any sense. The thing that really concerned Tanim, though, was the fact that on some occasions Daren would work himself up into such an intense frenzy that he started to talk about people whose time needed to come, and that it was his divine responsibility to carry this out. This had only happened once or twice, though, so Tanim didn’t know what to think of it quite yet. He decided to wait it out; perhaps Daren was just so stressed out because he got fired from his sales job. The next day Tanim went to work as usual. He had gone to bed without saying a word to Daren – he was just so distant these days. Tanim was working on some spread sheets when he suddenly got a important call from the police. They said that he needed to come down into the city right away because Daren was rampaging the streets, attacking people and claiming he was the angel of death. He had killed an elderly woman, severely injured a young man, and had nearly captured a young child. The police had chased him up to the top of a building where he was holding hostage some bankers that he claimed needed to go and was threatening to push them off the building. The police needed Tanim to come and help them reason with Daren. Tanim was shocked: he never thought it would go this far. The angel of death? That sounded ridiculous. He raced down to where Daren was holding the bankers. When he got there Daren had already tried to push one guy off the building but had failed. Daren was dressed in an over sized black sheet that he had wrapped around himself in some bad attempt to make it look like a cloak and was holding the fake scythe they had bought one year for Halloween.
“Daren!” Tanim yelled, “Its me! What are you doing!? Come down here, please, let these people go! You are not the angle of death!”
“Yes I am! IAMTHEANGLEOFDEATHTHTHTHTHTHHH!” Daren said, clearly out of his mind. As he said this he shoved the closest guy to him off the roof to his impending death.
“NO! DAREN!” But it was to late. The police had already had enough and shot Daren with their taser guns. He bounced up and down to the shocks and then fell limp on the ground. Tanim raced to his side. “Oh Daren what has become of you!”
Daren was immediately taken to a hospital. Although he would have been tried, it was recognized that he was clinically insane and diagnosed with schizophrenia with illusions of grandeur. It was too bad, really, because it would have been pretty bad ass had he been the angel of death, but alas that is impossible and instead he was just insane and had to remain in a mental hospital for the rest of his life. Tanim went on to find a less fucked up partner, and he came to realize that he was tired of having to take care of Daren anyway. Besides, Eduardo was so much better in bed and a good cook.