Today I am sat near my friend who is wolfing down his breakfast. I can tell that he is not really enjoying the food, he's just trying to get it down and keep it down.
"Can't you take a little time to enjoy your breakfast?" I ask.
"Dun worry avout et," he responds through a mouth full of bread and egg.
I shake my head and look out the window. It's such a beautiful day. The sun is sparkling across the leaves.
The greens are extremely green today and the sky is so blue that I'm beginning to feel as if I'm in a fairy tale.
But then I'm reminded of the man besides me, completely missing the glory before him.
"What time is the open-house at?" He asks, staring down at his phone.
"11, so we need to get going in the next 5 minutes." I stand and walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I stare into the mirror intensely. My God do my teeth look white.
I've been really taking care of them lately and the hard work is beginning to pay off. The glare of these sparkling K9's is so powerful that I'm afraid for the health of my eyes.
I put on a pair of aviators as I brush.
"Hurry yourself!" Screams my friend on the other side of the door. "I've got to use the bathroom!"
I ignore him and keep brushing. I'm focused like a samurai warrior.
"PLEASEEE!!!!" He moans.
I spit into the sink. There is a lot of blood but I figure that's a good sign. I wipe my face and open the door.
"Oh my god, you're such a prick!" Says my friend, pushing past me like a dumb brute to reach the toilet. He doesn't close the door. The echo's of his urination pollute the entire house.
"I'll be in the car!" I shout over my shoulder.
It's 11:09 when we pull into the driveway. Our realtor is on the lawn. He's feeding a neighbourhood cat something from his hand.
"I can't believe we're late, Moe." I snap.
"Whatever! He's apparently made friends with that weird feline anyways!"
We exit the car and wave to our realtor.
"Good morning, Jeff!" I shout through a warm smile.
Jeff stands up so quickly that the cat becomes mortified and bolts off into a bush, meowing in horror all the way. "Hey guys! It's great to see you again!"
We shake hands. His palms are sweaty. I can tell he's nervous about something.
"Is everything alright?" I ask.
"Yes! Why do you ask?" He responds, his voice shaky and his gums completely pale.
"Who's cat was that?" Asks my friend.
"Ya know what, I really don't have the answer to that question my friend."
We all kind of stare at each other for a moment.
"So can we see the house?" I ask, pointing to the door.
"YES!" Screams the realtor. He spins around and marches to the front door. When he gets there he places his hand on the knob and grins with concern.
"This is a great home!" He announces as we walk forwards. "It was built by French contractor in 1935!"
"Oh!" I say.
"Yes, that's right!" He continues. "You'll notice that there are no windows at all, not one! That is because this was built to withstand big bombs in case of a bomb attack!"
"Awesome," says my friend! "Did a bomb attack ever happen?"
"Oh yes!" Shouts the realtor. "This home used to be slightly larger until the garage was taken out by a terrible attack! You can still see the wreckage if you look to your right!"
My friend and I turn to see a school-bus sized crater full of charred wood and furniture next to the house. There's thick black smoke rising from the centre.
"I'm surprised we missed that when we pulled in!" I say.
"Let's go inside!" Says the realtor. He goes to turn the door knob but slips. His hand is so sweaty that he can't get a grip. "OH GOD!" He moans. "One second, boys!"
My friend and I glance at one another.
"Are you sure everything is alright?" I ask again. "You hardly seem yourself today!"
The realtor takes a long breath and looks down at his shoes. "I'm gonna be honest with you boys," he whisper. "I've fallen madly in love with this home."
"AND THE THOUGHT OF SELLING IT TO YOU TWO INDECISIVE MARXISTS IS JUST EATING ME UP ON THE INSDIE!!" He howls into the sky. "WHAT SINS HATH I COMMITTED, O' LORD?!!"
I take him by the arm. "If you love this house then you should keep it! We'll find something else!"
"Really? Do you mean it?" He asks through tears.
"Of course!" I say.
"You guys are the best," cheers the realtor. "I love you guys!" He throws his notebook onto the lawn and kicks off his shoes. He manages to open the door and runs inside with a bubbly laugh.
The door is promptly shut in our faces.