Tag Archives: crazy


She walked in and after a quick hug hello I asked. I just had to. I couldn’t wait another minute since the discovery I made while she was at work.

“So I was cleaning under the sink today,” as her eyes widen. “And I found a few broken mugs and a bowl.” I pause to see if she reacts. Besides the larger-than-usual look in her eyes and a tinge of obvious guilt, nothing. “Know anything about them?”

She walks past me and heads for the stairs.


She turns and stomps back towards me.


“Did you put them there?”


“You didn’t?”

“No.”  Straight faced.


“No, I didn’t.”

We live alone, besides our cat.

“So, what, the cat broke some mugs and a plate and hid them under the sink?”


“Maybe I should be having this conversation with the cat?”

Still nothing. She looks away. I can’t let this go, not because I had any real emotional attachment to the kitchenware, but because I have to understand why someone who was well over the age of ten would hide something she broke.

“Why did you hide them?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then who did?”

“I dunno.” This is the girl I chose?

This is easily the weirdest thing she’s done. I can’t figure it out.

“Could you please, please tell me why you stuffed them under the sink?  I mean, if you didn’t want me to find out, why hide them?  Why not just throw them out?”

She looks away again like a scolded child.

“So you didn’t do it. You didn’t break these.”

“No,” but this time in a low voice.

“Okay then. I guess it will remain a mystery.”

“Yup.” She walked back up the stairs.

I dropped the shards into the trash as I heard the shower turn on.


An Awkward Moment

“What the hell are you doing?”

This was awkward.  REALLY awkward.  But I guess I should have expected it.  He’s been kind of a weirdo since he moved into the building years ago.

A pair of tighty-whiteys were on his head.  He was holding a broom, but the way he was cradling it, I could tell he thought it was a gun.  I thought he didn’t like guns, so I asked him about it.

“What’s with the gun?”

“Whatta ya expect?  It’s the damned CIA, they teamed up with the gypsies, I have no choice.”

His eyes went wilder than usual, and I noticed that his long, dark hair wasn’t just messy, but cluttered with sticks and dirt.  Then I whiffed the odd smell of peanut butter.

“Why does it smell like peanut butter?” I asked, looking around the room.

“Oh, that would be me.  I ran out of shampoo.”

“So you used peanut butter?”

“Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly.


He reached for the door as if to close it with me still standing in the doorway.  How rude.  Then I realized the one question I should have asked, but confusion distracted my normal brain patterns.

“What are you doing in my closet?”

“You’re my sworn enemy.  They’ll never think to look for me here.”

“I see.  Can you leave?”

“Can I have some macaroni and cheese?”

“How…how did you know what I was making for dinner?”

“I can smell it.”


An awkward moment.

“Sure.  Pull up a chair, but leave the gun.  No weapons at the dinner table.”