We the Weirdos

Chapter Fourteen

"Do you have a pet?" I asked. I'm pretty sure you think I'm crazy for asking that, but I have a reason. I think, that is.

"Well, I have a dead fish." Lysander replied.

"Is that worth going to the pet hospital for?" I asked.

"He's dead. What do you want me to do? Bury him?"

"You know what, nevermind. Does your mom work at a hospital?"

"No." He said.

"Is she okay?"

"What is with all these questions? If my mom were okay, I'd stop acting like my fish died. Oh, wait. He's dead." He deadpanned. He's becoming weird. And scary.

"Imma go to your room. Don't mind me," he says, walking into the bathroom.

Awesome. A guest (well, I don't treat him as one) just randomly said he's staying the night and now he's making himself feel like home in my room. Joy.

"Wow, there's soap in your room? And toilet paper?" He asked, surprised.

Where the heck does he think I live?

"Yes, the homey room that belongs to me is the bathroom. Of course." I said sarcastically.

"This is the coolest room ever." He commented.

And I'm not even sure he actually knows where my room is in this house. I'd give him a map, but he wouldn't know how to read it.

"This is not my room, idiot. Do you live in the bathroom in your house?" I asked, annoyed.

"Oh! So this is the bathroom. Sorry, I just saw the toilet." He peered behind the sink.

I facepalmed. I feel bad for his mother, having to deal with him all day long. And being in the hospital, of course.

He walks out of the room and walks into my mom's closet. Does he not know what a room looks like? I'm just following him around. His IQ is probably lower than my brother's.

"Mis tis sah hihee toom," he said, tripping over my mom's heel. "Oww."

He deserved it.

He stood up. And fell again. "This is a tiny room."

"That's a closet, dingbat. Here, let me show you my room before you end up swallowing that heel. Those were a thousand dollars."

He quickly scooted away from the shoes like it had a disease. "Would you be a sweetheart and give me a hand?" He asked in a high-pitched voice.

He sounded creepier than a witch.

"I would very much like to keep both hands, thank you. You can grab onto the wall or something. My hand is not for sale."

He sighed. "Maybe I could crawl to your room?"

"Be my guest." And then I purposely started speed walking so he couldn't catch up.

"Why- are- you- so- fast?" He panted.

"Who knows, maybe you're just slow!" I called from my room.

Finally, he crawled into my room.

"Wow. This room is so messy."