Status: Updates every four days.
We Way? Three Way!
Spring Cleaning
“Hello?” I called out cautiously into the house. The van was gone.
“They drove Frank to the ER. I’m going out for a walk, don’t talk to strangers and don’t try to cook, alright?” Natalie said, gliding past me and out the door, grabbing a coat on the way.
I blinked a few times, not entirely sure of what was going on.
“Cupcake, I know you’re ignoring me right now, but I’m going to stop taking the pills if it’ll make you talk to me again. I don’t care how nice Germany, or Switzerland, or wherever you went is, I still need you here, with me.”
The phone ringing left me to wait for a reply.
“Hello, house of the Chemical Romance, may I take your order?”
“Mhmm… yeah, yeah, I’ll tell them. What did you say your name was again?”
“Becca, I’m back, it’s too cold to go walking, even with my jacket. Who’s on the phone?” Natalie asked.
“Brendon. He’s coming up for a few days and told me to tell Daddy G to clean the bats out of the spare bedroom.”
“We have bats?”
“I dunno, Brendon thinks we do.”
“When’s he coming…?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Dude! Franks in the hospital! We’re home by ourselves! How the hell do we try and make this place presentable for Brendon freakin’ Urie?” She had a point. Bob had given up. The house was a pigsty. We had less than 24 hours to clean a freakishly large house.
“Alright, uh, I’ll call the guys, you make sure there’s no underwear lying around.” Just- imagine the worst possible mess ever in a house. Then add colorful undergarments on top. Then throw in a drooling dog who was barely halfway up my shin, and a MIA tarantula wandering around. Then you’ve got our place.
The only places that had a chance of being clean were the bathrooms, because Bob had given up, but not broken, and no one likes a nasty bathroom, and Natalie’s, Ray’s, and Bob’s rooms. I grimaced as I found another pair of boxers behind the TV. My little pony. Probably Mikey’s.
“Where am I supposed to put all of it?”
“We have a laundry chute, use it for once! It just noms on the laundry, and then it’s downstairs, waiting to be washed. Magic, Becca, now go grab that bra off the coffee table. I swear, these men are such teenage girls. I’ll start on the kitchen.”
“Roger. Ugh, remind me again why our drawers for undies got thrown all around?” It was all clean, of course. If it wasn’t, I would’ve burned all of it.
“Last Thursday, celebrating the making of toast. Alcohol, boredom, chaos. The a b c’s of our lives.”
“You’ve definitely got a point… huh, I don’t remember Cupcake getting a thong. He probably went shopping without me again.”
“Would you bring him underwear shopping?”
“I guess not, no. There’s a scrubby under the sink, by the way.”
“Thanks, now I just need to let those dishes soak, and windex the hell out of the windows… go check out the guest room. If you see any bats, point them in the direction of the door.”
“They drove Frank to the ER. I’m going out for a walk, don’t talk to strangers and don’t try to cook, alright?” Natalie said, gliding past me and out the door, grabbing a coat on the way.
I blinked a few times, not entirely sure of what was going on.
“Cupcake, I know you’re ignoring me right now, but I’m going to stop taking the pills if it’ll make you talk to me again. I don’t care how nice Germany, or Switzerland, or wherever you went is, I still need you here, with me.”
The phone ringing left me to wait for a reply.
“Hello, house of the Chemical Romance, may I take your order?”
“Mhmm… yeah, yeah, I’ll tell them. What did you say your name was again?”
“Becca, I’m back, it’s too cold to go walking, even with my jacket. Who’s on the phone?” Natalie asked.
“Brendon. He’s coming up for a few days and told me to tell Daddy G to clean the bats out of the spare bedroom.”
“We have bats?”
“I dunno, Brendon thinks we do.”
“When’s he coming…?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Dude! Franks in the hospital! We’re home by ourselves! How the hell do we try and make this place presentable for Brendon freakin’ Urie?” She had a point. Bob had given up. The house was a pigsty. We had less than 24 hours to clean a freakishly large house.
“Alright, uh, I’ll call the guys, you make sure there’s no underwear lying around.” Just- imagine the worst possible mess ever in a house. Then add colorful undergarments on top. Then throw in a drooling dog who was barely halfway up my shin, and a MIA tarantula wandering around. Then you’ve got our place.
The only places that had a chance of being clean were the bathrooms, because Bob had given up, but not broken, and no one likes a nasty bathroom, and Natalie’s, Ray’s, and Bob’s rooms. I grimaced as I found another pair of boxers behind the TV. My little pony. Probably Mikey’s.
“Where am I supposed to put all of it?”
“We have a laundry chute, use it for once! It just noms on the laundry, and then it’s downstairs, waiting to be washed. Magic, Becca, now go grab that bra off the coffee table. I swear, these men are such teenage girls. I’ll start on the kitchen.”
“Roger. Ugh, remind me again why our drawers for undies got thrown all around?” It was all clean, of course. If it wasn’t, I would’ve burned all of it.
“Last Thursday, celebrating the making of toast. Alcohol, boredom, chaos. The a b c’s of our lives.”
“You’ve definitely got a point… huh, I don’t remember Cupcake getting a thong. He probably went shopping without me again.”
“Would you bring him underwear shopping?”
“I guess not, no. There’s a scrubby under the sink, by the way.”
“Thanks, now I just need to let those dishes soak, and windex the hell out of the windows… go check out the guest room. If you see any bats, point them in the direction of the door.”