Note: I took a little creative license with Sam's character.  We don't know 
much about his living habits, but I've always thought he was kind of a neat 
freak for some reason.  So, magically, I made him one!  It makes for a much 
more interesting dynamic that way.


    ~On February 23rd, Joshua Lyman was asked to remove himself from his 
place of residence. That request came from his exterminator. Deep down, he 
knew he was right, but he also knew that someday he would return to his 
apartment and its ever-present cockroaches. 
    With nowhere else to go, he appeared at the home of his colleague and 
best friend, Sam Seaborn. Sometime earlier, Seaborn's assistant had thrown 
him out of his office, requesting that he not return for as long as possible. 
    Can two men with different living habits share an apartment without 
driving each other crazy?...~      

* * * *
    
    Sam walked to his apartment door to answer the loud knocking coming from 
behind it. 

    He flung the door open and greeted his friend, "Hi, Josh.  What are you 
doing here?"

    "My apartment is being fumigated and I was hoping I could crash with you 
for a few days."

    Josh expected Sam to immediately nod and eagerly welcome him into his 
humble abode.  

    Sam, however, raised his eyebrows and began to stutter, 
"Here?...You...you want to stay here?...In my apartment?"

    Josh shook his head with a grin, "Actually, I was hoping you'd allow me 
to curl up on your doorstep, Sam."  He paused and then said in a loud voice, 
"Of course in your apartment!"

    Sam nodded and smiled nervously, "Yeah, of course, you can stay here.  
You're always welcome."  

    Josh smiled, bent over to pick up his bags and had just taken a step to 
cross the threshold, when Sam held his hand up and halted his motion. "But 
you know what might be better?"

    Josh sighed, while allowing the bags to fall from his hands and hit the 
floor with a thud.  He ran a hand through his hair, "What now?"

    Sam smiled and began to speak with forced enthusiasm, "Will get you a 
hotel room!  Won't that be nice?  You'll have your own maid service and food 
delivered right to your room.  Oh and maybe we can get you one of those cool 
snack bars.  And let us not forget the fringe benefits of a hotel room.  Free 
hotel stationary, a pen, and those cute little shampoo and conditioner 
bottles." Sam lowered his voice and leaned closer to Josh, "Plus, if you want 
to steal a towel or two, I'm willing to look the other way."

    Josh groaned and crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm getting the 
distinct impression that you don't want me to stay with you, Sam."

    Sam scoffed and chuckled, "Where would you get that idea from?"

    Josh smiled, "So, what's up?  Do you have a woman staying with you and 
have a hot night planned?"

    Sam shook his head sadly, "Unfortunately, no.  Not unless you count 
spending my night with Angela Landsbury and my 'Murder She Wrote' video 
collection."

    Josh laughed and shook his head.  "What's the problem then?"

    Sam lowered his eyes.  He then spoke softly and in a muffled voice.

    Josh wrinkled his brow, as he strained to hear him. 

    "Yugoslavia?" he asked in confusion. "What about it?"

    Sam shook his head and raised his eyes a bit.  Then he spoke in a clearer 
voice, "You're a slob."

    Josh's eyes widened and he emphatically shook his head, "I am not!"

    Sam cocked his head to the side, "Josh, the only reason you get anything 
done at the office is because Donna is always working tirelessly to organize 
the messes you are constantly creating."

    Josh shrugged, "Okay, I'm a bit of a messy worker, but that doesn't mean 
I'm a messy person to live with."

    Sam shook his head, "I've been to your apartment, Josh.  Now, either your 
sofa is actually made out of Chinese take-out cartons or you're a messy 
person to live with."

    Josh smiled, "So now you're insulting my decorating style."

    Sam returned the smile, "Nothing personal, buddy.  I'm just fairly sure 
that I would kill you after two days of living together."

    Josh grinned, "And what makes you think that your living habits wouldn't 
grate on my nerves?"

    Sam's face twisted in confusion. "What are you talking about?  I'm a very 
neat person."

    Josh nodded, "Yes, compulsively so.  There's a rumor going around that 
you iron the fringe on your area rug, Sam."

    "I do not," Sam protested weakly.

     "You alphabetize your can goods."

    "Well, that's just practical."

    "You-..."

    "Okay, okay, so I have a few neat habits.  It's not like I can't loosen 
up."

    Josh raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah?"

    Sam's brow furrowed worriedly.  He hated it when Josh got that look.

    Josh walked past Sam and headed to the kitchen.

    Sam followed him, while saying rather softly, "Shoes.  You didn't take 
off your shoes."

    Josh sighed and turned around to face him. "What's with that anyway, Sam? 
 What are you, Japanese?"

    "Shoes track dirt all over the apartment, Josh."

    Josh groaned at him.  He then quickly lifted each foot one at a time, 
removed his shoes and flung them across the room.  They hit a wall and fell 
to the floor with a thud.

    Sam watched this happen and then turned to Josh, "Well, that was just 
uncalled for."

    Josh shrugged and continued into the kitchen.  He pulled open Sam's 
pantry and surveyed the canned goods.   

    Sam watched in horror as he switched the positions of a can of beets and 
corn.  He bit his lip to keep from yelling in protest.

    He then watched as Josh switched the positions of a can of green beans 
and peas.

    Sam couldn't control himself and blurted out, "Okay, I stood silently by 
as you switched the positions of the corn and beets because it was a 
relatively short move.  But I cannot allow you to switch the green beans and 
peas...I mean that's...that's just drastic."

    Josh turned back to him with a satisfied smile.  "I knew you couldn't do 
it.  You're wound tighter than a yo-yo."

    Sam shrugged in defeat and said softly, "Mi casa es su casa."

    Josh grinned, "I don't speak French, but I'm assuming that means I can 
stay.

*****

    Sam approached Josh, who was lying on the couch and munching on a bag of 
Cheetos.

    "Josh, do you remember our toilet paper discussion?"

    Josh responded, without removing his eyes from the television, "Which 
one?  There have been so many."

    "'The replacing the toilet paper roll when you finish it' one."

    "I didn't finish it.  There's still a little bit more."

    Sam sighed, "What did I tell you about how to determine if a roll is in 
need of replacing?"

    Josh didn't respond, so Sam took the remote from his hand and clicked off 
the television.

    "Hey!" Josh protested.  "Jack Nicholson was just about to say 'You can't 
handle the truth!'  I love that part.  Put it back on."

    "No, you're not listening to me."

    "And the television being on was making that much easier to do."

    "What did I say about the toilet paper, Josh?" Sam asked again.

    Josh rolled his eyes and shrugged, "That toilet paper is our friend."

    "What did I say about replacing it?"

    "Honestly, Sam, I'm pretty sure that was the point in our conversation 
when I was thinking of 101 ways to murder a man with toilet paper.  I think I 
may have missed that part."

    Sam groaned and held out his arm as he explained, "A roll needs replacing 
when its length is less than or equal to the length from the tip of your 
middle finger to your shoulder."

    Josh smiled, "It's a good thing you put that less than or equal thing in 
because I would have been lost without it."

    Sam sighed and shook his head, "Come on, get up.  You're going to change 
the roll."

    Josh laughed, "You're joking, right?"

    "My mother always made me do whatever it was I had neglected to do on my 
own."

    "Isn't this the same mother who makes up words?"

    "It made me the person I am today, Josh."

    "I don't doubt that," Josh muttered as he rolled off the couch and headed 
to the bathroom.  

    He proceeded to quickly replace the roll, under the watchful gaze of Sam.

    "Done," Josh said.

    Sam shook his head disapprovingly and pointed at the roll, "You did it 
wrong."

    Josh chuckled, "You have to be kidding.  How in the world does one put 
toilet paper on wrong?"

    "Don't you remember our discussion about the proper way to replace it?"

    "Refresh my memory.  My mind's still reeling from the finger to shoulder 
thing."

    Sam removed the roll and proceeded to turn it around so that the paper 
would fall forward instead of behind it.  "The sheets are supposed to drape 
over the front of the roll, not fall behind it. This way, it allows for 
easier access and for one to fold it over to make a cute little pointy 
decorative thing." As Sam said this, he folded each corner of the sheet 
diagonally. 

    Josh ran a hand down his face and moaned, "There's something seriously 
wrong with you, you know that?"

    Sam shrugged and offered Josh a nod in response.

* * * *

    "Josh!" Sam screamed in his ear.

    Josh's sleeping body shook and his head popped up from his pillow.

    "What?" he asked groggily, his eyes still closed.

    "Did you leave only one ice cube in the tray?"

    Josh rubbed at his eyes with his fist and struggled to open them.  When 
they were little more than slits, he focused them on Sam.  "Please tell me 
you did not wake me up in the middle of the night to ask me about ice cubes."

    "It's not the middle of the night.  It's 4 am."

    "If it's still dark out, then it's the middle of the night to me, Sam."

    "This is the best part of the day.  The air is still, dawn is on it's 
way.  It's very peaceful."

    Josh groaned and dropped his head back down on his pillow. "You get up 
this early everyday?"

    "Yup.  I go for a morning jog."

    "It should be against the law to be awake before the sun has risen.  In 
fact, I think I'll try to push such a law through Congress," Josh grumbled 
into his pillow.

    Sam shook his head, "So, about the ice cubes?"

    Josh sighed, "No, it wasn't me, Sam.  It was the Ice Cube Elves who stole 
them and failed to fill the tray up again.  Damn them."

    "Josh," Sam said impatiently.

    "Of course it was me, Sam!  How many other people do you have in living 
in this place?!" Josh responded agitatedly.

    "And do you recall the ice cube rule we discussed?"

    "I recall thinking you were insane for having an ice cube rule," Josh 
mumbled.

    Sam shook his head in defeat and left the guest room.

    Josh sighed in relief, "Thank God.  The love child of Martha Stewart and 
Fidel Castro has vacated the room."

* * * * 

    A few hours later, Josh walked into the kitchen and headed towards the 
refrigerator.   Sam sat at the table reading the morning newspaper.  Josh 
opened the refrigerator, pulled out the orange juice, popped open the carton 
and proceeded to down it.

    Sam's eyes left the newspaper and fell on a guzzling Josh. 

    "What the hell are you doing?!"  Sam practically screamed.

    A startled Josh instinctively removed the carton from his mouth, causing 
much of it to spill onto the ground.

    He turned to Sam, "Well, I *was* having a morning drink.  Now, I think I 
may be experiencing the early stages of a coronary." 

    Josh paused and then barked, "What's the matter with you?!"

    Sam stood up and walked over to Josh, removing the carton from his grip. 
"What's the matter with me?  Were you raised in a barn?"

    "Yes, I hail from a long line of farmers, Sam."

    "I was thinking more like a long line of swine."

    Josh grinned, "You can call them what you like.  I call them family."

    Sam shook his head, "I've met your mother and father, Josh.  There is no 
way they raised you to behave in such a way."

    Josh chuckled, "I drank o.j. from the carton, Sam, I didn't rob a bank."

    Sam took a deep breath, "Okay, maybe I overreacted just a bit.  Just use 
a glass next time."

    Josh nodded and muttered, "Yes, Mom," under his breath.

    Sam quickly cleaned up the spill and then went back to the table.

    He continued to read the newspaper, as he spoke to Josh.  "You better get 
dressed.  Leo called and wants us at the office in an hour."

    "Damn it," Josh said. "Do Saturdays without work even exist anymore?"

    "Not when you work in the West Wing."

    Josh proceeded to make himself a bagel, as Sam continued to speak.  "Give 
me your jeans and I'll iron them for you."

    Josh turned around, as he practically choked on his bagel.  "I'm sorry, 
did you just use the word jeans and iron in the same sentence?"

    Sam nodded, "Yeah, so?"

    "How is it that we have known each other for so long, but I never knew 
just how far your strangeness extended?"

    "I like a freshly pressed outfit, that's all," Sam said.

    "What happened to the Sam who wore the same suit two days in a row that 
time?"

    "That was a one time thing and, trust me, I felt guilty for days 
afterward."

    Josh laughed, "Your parents really screwed you up.  I wonder what Freud 
would say about you."

    Sam couldn't help but laugh at that one, too.

* * * *
    
    "Donna!" Josh bellowed, as he watched his assistant try to pass by his 
door unnoticed.

    Donna sighed and walked into his office, "Josh, I have been here for a 
total of thirty seconds and you are already hollering my name."

    "Do you have a point?"

    "My point is that you could give me a chance to remove my coat and 
mentally prepare for dealing with you for more hours than I care to count."

    "I need the thing."

    "The thing's on your desk."

    "Where on my desk?"

    "Last night, it was in the middle of your desk.  However, I see that you 
have chosen to employ a new system based in chaos and it is no longer there."

    "Find it, please."

    "Do you know what I was supposed to be doing today, Josh?"

    Josh groaned, "I'm not in the mood for your weekly sob story about how I 
ruined what looked to be a fabulous Saturday for you."

    "Pottery."

    "Excuse me?"

    "My girlfriend and I were going to paint our own pottery at that new 
place downtown."

    "Can't you just buy pottery?"

    Donna sighed, "Yes, but this is a relaxing and fun thing to do.  Yet, 
once again, you have managed to remove both of those words from my pathetic 
life."

    Josh rubbed at his face and groaned, "You think you have problems?  I'm 
living with Felix Unger on crack."

    Donna laughed, "Sam's a little too neat for you?"

    "Neat?  The man has his ties organized into categories like 'casual 
paisley,' and 'fancy paisley'."

    "You know, Josh, you could stand to be a little bit more organized."

    "I have my own form of organization and it works just fine for me, Donna."

    "Your idea of organization is 'pile of stuff I have to do' and 'pile of 
stuff I don't want to do'.   The only reason you get any work done is because 
I am constantly picking up after you."

    "You make me sound like a child."

    "You are a child, Josh.  You're a child in a man's body."

    Josh shook his head, as his brow wrinkled, "Please, go on.  I'm a sucker 
for such flattery."

    Donna smiled and was about to leave, when Josh's voice halted her. "Can I 
stay with you until my apartment's done?"

    "No," Donna responded without hesitation.

    Josh's eyes widened, "You didn't even consider it."

    "No, I did not."

    "Give me one good reason why you don't want me to stay with you?"

    "My roommate hates you.  My cats hate you.  You're rude.  You're 
obnoxious.   You're arrogant.  You're a slob."

    "I said one," Josh grumbled.

    "You have a perfectly good setup at Sam's, Josh."

    "The man irons his jeans, Donna.  Now that's just wrong."

    Donna laughed, "You'll survive."

    Josh nodded, "Oh, I know I will.  I'm just not sure I can say the same 
about Sam."

* * * *
    
    Sam groaned, as he entered the apartment and found Josh sprawled out on 
the couch.  He had a pizza carton on his chest, a can of coke in his hand and 
two more were carelessly discarded on the floor.  

    "What are you doing?" Sam asked, as he took off his coat.

    Josh gestured to the television with his pizza crust and spoke through a 
mouthful, "I'm seriously considering buying something called 'The 
Perminator'."

    "What does it do?"

    "I have no idea, but the woman is very persuasive.  She says I can't help 
but be satisfied and my life will never be the same once I have it.  She said 
this with such cheerfulness that I'm inclined to believe her."

    Sam sighed, as he collapsed in a nearby chair, "You have to stop watching 
infomercials, Josh."

    Josh smiled, as he took a long gulp of his soda. "You say that now, but 
you'll be singing a different tune once your 'Scuminator' arrives." Josh 
paused, "Your bathroom will be sparkling clean, my compulsively neat friend."

    Sam nodded, as he stood up and walked to the closet.  He returned a 
moment later with a handheld vacuum and stood over Josh.  He turned the 
vacuum on and placed it on Josh's crumb-covered t-shirt.

    "Hey!"  Josh yelled over the noise created by the vacuum.

    Sam ignored him and continued to vacuum up the mess that was Joshua Lyman.

    "Sam, those crumbs were still good!" Josh protested to no avail.

    When Sam had deemed Josh sufficiently clean, he began to vacuum the rug.  

    Josh shook his head, as he sat up on the couch.  He smiled at Sam as he 
finished and turned off the vacuum.  "Feel better now?"

    "Much," Sam replied with a relief-filled smile.

    As Josh shifted in his place, he knocked a slice of pizza from his knee 
that he had been attempting to balance.  The pizza landed right-side up on 
the rug.   Before Josh could retrieve it, Sam picked it up.

    "Whoa, don't throw that out," Josh ordered with wide eyes.  

    "It fell on the floor, Josh," Sam said.

    "Five-second rule," Josh stated. "That slice of pizza was on the rug less 
than five-seconds which means it's still good."

    Sam shook his head in disbelief, "Where did you ever hear such a 
ridiculous rule?"

    Josh shrugged, "I don't know, my fraternity probably.  A rule is a rule 
though.  This rule is just as important as your stupid toilet paper one and 
it must be respected."

    Sam sighed in defeat and handed Josh the slice of pizza, "If you want to 
fill your body with germs that only God can fathom, then be my guest."

    "I will," Josh said, as he took a bite out of his pizza and settled back 
onto the couch.

* * * *

    "Donna!"  Sam practically screamed into the phone.

    "Sam?" Donna asked groggily.

    "Yeah, it's me."

    "It's three o'clock in the morning, what could you possibly want at this 
hour?"

    "You have to come get him, Donna.  I don't know how much more of this I 
can stand," Sam said rather desperately. 

    Donna yawned her response into the phone, "Just give him a cookie and 
glass of  milk, and send him back to bed, Sam."

    Sam shook his head, "No, you don't understand.  The man is driving me 
insane.  He is a slob.  I mean, roll-in-the-mud-and-snort sloppy."

    "Why couldn't this have waited till the morning?"

    "Because I've been awake the last three hours listening to him snore.  I 
came dangerously close to placing a pillow over his face," Sam said through 
gritted teeth.

    "He can't really help snoring, Sam.  That's not his fault."

    "I know, I know.  It's just that *everything* he does now is grating on 
my nerves.  He dried his hands on the guest towel and I practically had an 
aneurysm."

    Donna chuckled, "It's only for a little while longer."

    Sam sighed heavily, "I don't know how you do it, Donna.  You spend hours 
with him everyday.  I've spent less than two days and I'm already trying to 
kill him in his sleep.  How do you do it?"

    Donna shrugged, "I've learned to ignore the small things and then annoy 
him so much that he has little or no energy to annoy me. I fight fire with 
fire, Sam."

    A wide smile spread across Sam's face as Donna finished. He spoke 
excitedly into the phone, "You just gave me a great idea, Donna.  Thanks!"

    With that, Sam slammed the phone down on the hook.

    Donna jumped at the sound and quickly pulled the phone away from her ear. 
 

    She smiled, as she placed her head back onto the pillow and said softly, 
"A boss only a loyal, patient assistant could love.

* * * *

    Josh's head popped up, as a blaring from the living room awakened him.  
He rubbed at his eyes, as he slowly got out of bed and headed to the living 
room.  

    His eyes widened at what he saw.  Sam was lying on the couch in an 
undershirt and boxers.  He had the television's volume up as high as it could 
go and tuned to MTV.   Sam was munching on some Fritos, his eyes glued to the 
television.

    Josh's brow wrinkled, "What are you doing?"

    "Watching TV and eating breakfast."

    "You're watching MTV?"

    "Yes and can I just say that I think this Eminem person is being unfairly 
persecuted."

    "What the hell?" Josh muttered to himself, as he once again rubbed at his 
eyes in the hopes of making normal Sam reappear. He pointed a finger at him, 
"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Sam Seaborn?"

    Sam chuckled, "That's funny...Want some Fritos?"

    "You're eating Fritos for breakfast?  What happened to your usual bowl of 
Wheaties, half a grapefruit and glass of orange juice?"

    "Ah, that's food for wimps.  You and I are real men," Sam said with a 
dismissive wave of his hand.

    Josh shook his head. "Wait...You said Sundays are pancake day.  You 
promised to make me chocolate chip pancakes with a whip cream smiley face," 
Josh finished what turned out to be a borderline whine.

    Sam snorted, "Who wants that Martha Stewart wussy food?  I can survive on 
beer, pizza and Fritos alone."

    Josh vigorously shook his head, "No, this is not you.  This is me, not 
you.  You don't eat fattening foods except on designated Sundays.  You 
exercise like crazy.  You don't watch MTV and you act like a total neat 
freak."

    Sam shrugged, "You were right, I needed to loosen up.  I've taken a page 
out of your book, Josh.   I must thank you.  I really do feel quite free."

    Sam stood up and Josh followed him into the kitchen.  Sam opened the 
refrigerator, removed a bottle of Coke and proceeded to drink straight from 
it. 
    
    Josh watched in shock, "What are you doing?!  Use a glass!  Do you have 
any idea how unsanitary that is?"
    
    Sam shrugged without concern and placed the bottle back in the 
refrigerator.

    Josh ran a hand through his hair and then quickly opened up the freezer 
as an idea hit him.  

    He pulled out the ice cube tray and showed it to Sam.  "Look, I left only 
one cube and neglected to fill it up again.  Yell at me and remind me of the 
rule.  Come on, I deserve it.  I did a very bad thing."

    Once again, Sam shrugged his shoulders. "No problem, buddy."

    With that, Sam exited the kitchen and left a frustrated Josh standing in 
the middle of the room shaking his head.  

    Josh sighed, exited the kitchen and headed to the bathroom.  

    A few minutes later he stormed into the living room, shaking a roll of 
toilet paper at Sam.  "You didn't replace the roll, Sam.  There were three 
measly sheets left.  I...I had to use tissues!   Have you completely 
abandoned the finger to shoulder rule?"

    Sam shrugged again, "I yearn to be free, Josh.   Rules no longer rule my 
life."

    Josh spoke through clenched teeth, "Stop shrugging!  I hate that!   And 
stop saying you want to be free like some flowerchild of the '60s!"

    "You have to learn to lighten up, my friend," Sam responded calmly.

    Josh ran a hand down his face and then shook his head, "I can't live like 
this...I can't stand this chaos.  I have to get out of here."

    Josh hurriedly left the room and returned a few minutes later with a 
hastily packed suitcase in his hand.  He waved to Sam, as he exited the 
apartment, "When your alien compadres return my friend, I'd appreciate it if 
someone let me know."

    With that, Josh slammed the door shut.

    An enormous smile spread across Sam's lips and he threw his arms up in 
silent jubilation.

    He then said softly, "Pigpen has left and I can now return to a life of 
peace."  His smile disappeared, as he glanced down at the bag of Fritos on 
his chest and the crumbs that surrounded it. "What the hell was I thinking?"

* * * *

    Donna opened the door and shook her head at Josh.

    He smiled slightly and his brow furrowed, "So, do you think I could crash 
here for a little while? I won't-..."

    Donna slammed the door in his face, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

    He sighed, shrugged his shoulders and said through the barrier, "I'll 
take that as a maybe."  He paused and then added, "For now, I'm just gonna 
set up camp out here."

    Josh sat down on the ground, his back leaning against the door. 

    A few moments later, Donna flung the door open and Josh landed at her 
feet with a thud.  

    She stared down at him and said sharply, "Two days, max.  And if my cat 
mysteriously ends up in the toilet again, I swear I'll hurt you."

    Josh smiled up at her and said, "Thanks, roomie.
    
    Donna simply rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms over chest.

* * * *

    ~On February 25th, Joshua Lyman removed himself from his temporary place 
of residence.  He was driven to by the strange new habits of the residence's 
owner.  Deep down, he knew his friend was pretending, but he also knew that 
he would never, ever return to his apartment and his compulsive living 
habits. 
    With nowhere else to go, he appeared at the home of his assistant, 
Donnatella Moss. Sometime earlier and often, Lyman's assistant had thrown him 
out, requesting that he never return. 
    Can a boss and his assistant share an apartment without driving each 
other crazy?...~    



THE END

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