He turned the door knob and stepped inside. It was a small room, cluttered, and absent of light. He called out.
“Hello?”
No answer.
He crossed the threshold, took three steps inside and felt a soft squish beneath his foot. Startled, he jumped backwards, lost his balance, and fell into a shelving unit, which was lined with dust-covered, ceramic ‘whatnots’ and trophies and littered with food wrappers and partially filled styrofoam drinking cups. One of the cups tipped over and the remnants of old coffee oozed onto the shelf along with a film of mold that had started to form on its goopy, liquid surface. A cloud of dust encircled his head and triggered a series of sneezes that would soon have him crawling on all fours to the Kleenex box on the opposite side of the room. He sat on the floor and leaned back against the sofa to collect himself.
Light from the street filtered through the open door and illuminated the floor stretched out in front of him. It was difficult to spot at first, but eventually he saw it. A cat toy. He stepped on a cat toy.
“Damn. That could’ve killed me.”
He arose and looked around for a trash can before ultimately electing to discard the Kleenex on the shelving unit. He flipped the switch on the wall and sighed when no light followed. He proceeded back across the room, more carefully this time, and into the kitchen. The space lit only by the digital clock on the microwave flashing 12:00.
He opened the refrigerator, inspected its contents, and decided on a beer. After taking a pull from the longneck bottle, he leaned back against the kitchen counter and released a loud sigh. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it would only last for a few moments.
“Mason.”
His thoughts were interrupted by a female voice from the adjacent laundry room.
“I-I-I didn’t think anyone was here,” he replied with a trembling voice.
“Where exactly did you think I would be at 3:30 in the morning?”
“I mean… not here. I thought you were still in–“
“Alabama? I came back early.”
“Can you step inside the kitchen? This is creeping me out.”
Only silence. He could actually hear his heart pounding and the rhythm was picking up tempo.
“Are you scared, Mason?”
“Well… yes.”
“You should be. This is a bad neighborhood, and I was able to get in here way too easily.”
The figure emerged from the laundry room and flipped on the light. It was his sister, Madison. The comedian. And not the family goofball or the class clown you may be picturing — although she was those things, too — that was her job. She made a living at it. Telling jokes to strangers. And she was really good at impressions. Particularly of his wife, Erica.
“Why do you do this?” he asked in earnest.
“Because I think it’s hilarious, that’s why. Where were you anyway? And why were you sneaking into your own house?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was…” he debated before continuing “…at an open mic.”
“Finally giving auctioneering a go? You could start with the crap in this house.”
“Sure. I would love to. But… what’s the goal here? You’re not thinking of doing this… like, for real? Are you?”
“Ha. Ha. I told a few jokes. No big deal.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You really have to ask?”
“How did you do?”
“It was… just ok…” he paused. “Look, don’t get a big head or anything, but maybe you could give me a few tips?”
“Sure. I would love to. But… what’s the goal here? You’re not thinking of doing this… like, for real? Are you?”
“Why not? You do it.”
“Well, yeah… but I’m single.”
“I’m just not happy professionally. And yes. I know it’s a big decision and it’s going to be a lot of work, but I think I would really enjoy it. And I mean… I’m not planning to quit my job right now or anything…”
“Then, you should do it.”
“Yeah?”
“It sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought. So… yeah.”
“Thanks. But… don’t say anything to Erica. Not yet. She’ll worry that I’m going to do something reckless, and she has enough going on right now. I want to tell her myself when the time is right.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Do you want a beer?”
“I’d love one. Also… I’m still waiting for you to tell me why you were sneaking into your own house…”
“I was… pretending. Nevermind.”
She laughed. “Oh, yeah… I forgot you do that. Weirdo.”
“See. That’s exactly why I avoided the question.”
“What was it this time? A casino heist? A drug bust?”
Mason rolled his eyes and quickly changed the subject, “So when can you help me with this? Erica’s coming back home in two days.”
“I can help you tomorrow, but I’m crashing on your couch tonight. If I can find it.”
Featured image: Lestat (Jan Mehlich), CC BY-SA 2.5, via Wikimedia Commons
