The Typical Insanity

i'm not cute, I'm a psychopath

I woke up this morning to a magnificent view of an overhead fan whirring around a ceiling of faded cracks. I didn't feel like trying to remember anything because I wanted to count the amount of times it turned and turned and turned. I was at 79 revolutions before I heard something crash in the cramped kitchen behind the sofa. I know it's the kitchen because that's the only thing on the other side of the 'living room' which is literally just a TV, a coffee table and the aforementioned sofa. I ask myself if I should move into a larger housing as I fumble around the floor for my glasses which seemed to have inexplicably disappeared from the coffee table.

"You are alright with a broken plate or two, no?" A French accent calls out from my miniscule kitchen which causes me to debate whether I should be arming myself at this point. I jerk out of my unpleasant couch and put on the glasses which have inexplicably appeared in my hands.

"I'm a little bit of a, um, what do you call them, a klutz? Oh yes, a klutz. I'll clean up the mess as soon as I'm done with the cooking."

I'm looking at my fair haired neighbor. She's standing, in the flesh, beside my discolored fridge holding a frying pan. The urge to laugh and wake up is strong, am I wearing my glasses or do I think they're on?

"It's you." Is all I can say but I wanted it to be a question. "You're here? In my house?" Much better.

She looks confused, why is she confused? I'm the one who has no idea what's going on, at least she seems to know what she's doing... more or less judging by the burnt substance in the pan.

"Um, you invited me over last night, remember? Well actually it was this morning, wasn't it because we were out pretty late, don't you think?" And she continues to chatter on about God knows what.

"Wait, wait, hold up, just give me a minute, I need a minute." My head's starting to throb which is just wonderful seeing as how the day's barely even started. Oh boy, what does she mean by 'invited over'? I would never do that, hell, I couldn't even bring myself to make eye contact with her when we were getting our mail. What does she mean by 'invited over'?

"What do you mean by 'invited over'?"

She cocks her head and smirks at me. "Well, what do you think it means?"

I think the best way to describe the expression I'm trying to portray here would be a nun's face if you swore in front of her and then asked her say a bad word along with you.

She laughs. "It's a joke, guy, I'm just kidding. You were just helping me out when I really needed some help." She shakes her head and goes back to the stove. "Besides, if what you thought did happen, you wouldn't be on that ugly couch."

I agree completely. That couch is terrible, why did I even buy it? Oh right, it was on sale for 35 bucks. I am such a savvy shopper.

"Okay, uh, erm, yeah."

"You don't remember?"

I'm slightly embarrassed that I wouldn't remember inviting my crush into my home, no, house but then again, I can't remember most of anything from the past two days.

"So, um... I'm sorry, what was, uh, your name again?"

"I'm Clementine." She sticks her hand out to me and for a moment I see another hand with a matchbox in it. I shake it off, alluding it to the ongoing headache and take her hand.

"Nice to, um, officially meet you, Clementine."

"Ah oui, I was actually thinking about that," there's someone behind her. "About how, you know, we've lived here for forever and yet," he's got an expensive mask on. "We've never really met before this! It's so strange, is it not?" Rien.