Chapter VII: Leaving The Mormon Roommates (Part I)

Note: this is a much-anticipated continuation of an epic several-part series chronicling one East Coast liberal’s swapping the tailored clothing of Jos. A Bank for the even dreamier blue eyes of Joseph Smith. The tale begins here.

The Mormon roommates were at breaking point.

But they didn’t say it. They let Selena Gomez.

The Mormon roommates never said they were angry. Theirs was a ceaseless, passive-aggressive simmer. They kept up their aww-shucks, “Leave It To Beaver” ways for a while. But little by little, it happened. The icy silences grew colder. The eye contact, more fleeting. Until they stopped sharing the Skittles. Stopped holding doors. And started cranking the Disney Channel full blast:

“I’M GOING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD!” the Evil Selena Gomez roared.

It didn’t used to be this way. But the parents nagged a little longer and, maybe, a little louder than they should have. And Selena Gomez grew so tired of the nagging. So fed up with the parental whining. She did what any pouty teen with magic powers would do: she split herself in two.

The Good Selena Gomez was pure of heart and never corrected by her parents again. But the Evil Selena Gomez was entombed in a mirror. And all was right in the Russo family.

But the mirror shattered. And the Evil Selena Gomez was released to wreak havoc across the world and two seasons of laugh-tracked, 23-minute Disney Channel episodes.

Until today. Because today the Good Selena Gomez knew what she must do. Today she realized—to zapped electronic soundtrack budget—the answer had been inside her along. To vanquish the Evil Good Selena Gomez, the Good Selena Gomez must turn her magic wand on herself.

I knew this because the Mormon roommates knew this. The Mormon roommates knew this because they had watched “The Wizards of Waverly Place: The Wizards Return, Alex vs. Alex” made-for-TV special. For five straight days.

To be fair, “The Wizards of Waverly Place” is rated G. For All General Audiences. There is no cut-off age. But to be even more fair, when you are 32 and 34 years old and single, there really should be.

The Mormon roommates used to be coy about it. Russell had a charade all worked out, even: every day I unlocked the front door, he flopped down on the couch, rubbed feigned sleep from his eyes, and asked why Devin kept leaving the Disney Channel on.

Never mind that in Russell’s scheme, he still fell asleep to the Disney Channel. Every day. Never mind that in Russell’s scheme, I could still see everything through the apartment’s sliding glass front door. Every day.

Until today. Because today Russell blasted the Wizards of Waverly. Unapologetically. Because today I moved out of Willowbrook Condominiums.

And today the Mormon roommates were at breaking point.