Blow out that cherry bomb, for me?

So I arrive home from the library, and my apartment is pitch black, as everyone has gone to sleep, due to their early classes tomorrow morning. So I sneak upstairs, and go to open my door. It is at this point that I fall forwards and almost smash my face on my roommate's dresser. This is, of course, because apparently we no longer have a bedroom door (why else?).

You may ask yourself, "why does he not have a door?" Oh believe me, I was wondering the same thing. Here, my newly awakened GayRoommate explained the story to me.

Apparently, our landlord decided that one of the bedroom doors was broken. So this evening a maintenance man shows up at our front door, saying that he's "here to take one of the doors."

Confusedly, GR explains that none of our doors need to be taken. But maintenance man insists that he's "here to take the broken one."

"Which one is broken?" GR inquires.

"You tell me" responds the increasinly helpful maintenance man.

So he traipses upstairs and bangs loudly on each door, apparently coming to the conclusion that the door to my room is the offender. So he quickly undoes the hinges and takes the door away.

"Don't worry," he assured GR, "we'll have it back in 4 or 5 days."

And there he left GR standing in the ruins of what was our previously fully enclosed bedroom.

For real real? Yes. Not for play play.