Welcome To My World, Stranger
My House
Maybe I should describe my house. It’s not special or anything, but you should know what it looks like, just in case you’re walking down the street one day and spot it; then you’ll know to stay clear.
Very, very clear.
The concrete driveway is disgusting: it’s broken and has small tufts of yellowing grass growing out of the cracks.
It kind of looks like a really fat person has come along, jumped up and down a hundred times, causing a minor earthquake, then planted those Troll Dolls in between the cracks.
How imaginative.
Our house is a grey coloured, double-story house that Jack inherited.
It smells dank, because we have leaks in the sagging roof, and because Rhiannon (and Jack) never clean, and there’s no way they can afford one of those nice, cleaner ladies that use nice-smelling disinfectants like Pine-O-Clean.
The garden is overgrown with blackberry bushes and dead shrubs and sticks, which I’m pretty sure, were once baby trees.
On the nature strip out the front, there is a small, lone tree with dark green, silky leaves. That is my tree: Toddy, that I love like a brother.
In spring, he sprouts beautiful purple flowers; in autumn, his leaves turn gold, yellow, red and orange; in winter, he is naked; and in summer, he is just green and brown.
He is, a very stylish brother.
The windows on the house are thin and a lot of warm air escapes through the thin glass because of it. The window frames are all the same colour and size, too: black, small and square.
Many windows lack blinds or curtains; thus letting the world see my parents when they decide that clothes aren’t ‘cool’, or necessary.
Sometimes when they’re doing something naughty on the couch while several people are standing outside, gaping, they go somewhere more private.
But when they can’t be stuffed, they stay on the couch and well, attract attention.
I recommend they sell tickets.
As you walk in the front door, you are hit by the smell of alcohol, cigarettes and dirty laundry.
As Iwalk in the door, I am hit by all those things, plus Rhiannon.
If you stand on the threshold, with the front door at your back, you should be staring straight at the squeaky staircase.
On your left is a door with leads to the kitchen; on your right is a door which leads to the lounge room, and next to the squeaky staircase, there is a small passage which leads to the laundry and the back door.
Upstairs there is a bathroom, a toilet and 2 bedrooms.
The first bedroom you pass, is mine.
My room fortunately, has curtains, which I hardly ever open.
The walls are white and is littered with a few posters, some holes and quite a fair bit of text (as in, words I have written). I might tell you what I have written on my walls, later.
My room contains:
An old, metal-frame bed with an ancient filthy doona cover,
A small tall-boy where I keep my few clothes,
A light blue coloured arm chair which has many stains, and
A big box full of interesting junk.
Nothing special.
The second room is Rhiannon and Jack’s, but I’m not allowed in there, so I don’t know what it looks like.
The bathroom and toilet areas are really grubby and stained, so I don’t think I’ll go into detail about those rooms.
And that is my house.
---------------------------------------------
Very, very clear.
The concrete driveway is disgusting: it’s broken and has small tufts of yellowing grass growing out of the cracks.
It kind of looks like a really fat person has come along, jumped up and down a hundred times, causing a minor earthquake, then planted those Troll Dolls in between the cracks.
How imaginative.
Our house is a grey coloured, double-story house that Jack inherited.
It smells dank, because we have leaks in the sagging roof, and because Rhiannon (and Jack) never clean, and there’s no way they can afford one of those nice, cleaner ladies that use nice-smelling disinfectants like Pine-O-Clean.
The garden is overgrown with blackberry bushes and dead shrubs and sticks, which I’m pretty sure, were once baby trees.
On the nature strip out the front, there is a small, lone tree with dark green, silky leaves. That is my tree: Toddy, that I love like a brother.
In spring, he sprouts beautiful purple flowers; in autumn, his leaves turn gold, yellow, red and orange; in winter, he is naked; and in summer, he is just green and brown.
He is, a very stylish brother.
The windows on the house are thin and a lot of warm air escapes through the thin glass because of it. The window frames are all the same colour and size, too: black, small and square.
Many windows lack blinds or curtains; thus letting the world see my parents when they decide that clothes aren’t ‘cool’, or necessary.
Sometimes when they’re doing something naughty on the couch while several people are standing outside, gaping, they go somewhere more private.
But when they can’t be stuffed, they stay on the couch and well, attract attention.
I recommend they sell tickets.
As you walk in the front door, you are hit by the smell of alcohol, cigarettes and dirty laundry.
As Iwalk in the door, I am hit by all those things, plus Rhiannon.
If you stand on the threshold, with the front door at your back, you should be staring straight at the squeaky staircase.
On your left is a door with leads to the kitchen; on your right is a door which leads to the lounge room, and next to the squeaky staircase, there is a small passage which leads to the laundry and the back door.
Upstairs there is a bathroom, a toilet and 2 bedrooms.
The first bedroom you pass, is mine.
My room fortunately, has curtains, which I hardly ever open.
The walls are white and is littered with a few posters, some holes and quite a fair bit of text (as in, words I have written). I might tell you what I have written on my walls, later.
My room contains:
An old, metal-frame bed with an ancient filthy doona cover,
A small tall-boy where I keep my few clothes,
A light blue coloured arm chair which has many stains, and
A big box full of interesting junk.
Nothing special.
The second room is Rhiannon and Jack’s, but I’m not allowed in there, so I don’t know what it looks like.
The bathroom and toilet areas are really grubby and stained, so I don’t think I’ll go into detail about those rooms.
And that is my house.
---------------------------------------------