The Third-Floor Bedroom

“Oh, Paul, look at that old wall. All the paint is coming off,” sighed Mrs. Jones.

“We can repaint,” Mr. Jones grunted.

“Look at that old shower, the tiles are just about done for,” Mrs. Jones replied.

“So what!?” said Mr. Jones, looking up from his newspaper.

“I don’t know Paul. I think it’s time we move,” said Mrs. Jones.

“I’ve lived here for twenty years! There is no way I’m leaving this house!” shouted Mr. Jones, now slamming his newspaper on the table, which rattled and leaned to one side.

“But, Paul! You saw that table rattle, now didn’t you! It’s about time we leave!” pleaded Mrs. Jones.

“No!” yelled Mr. Jones.

“But-”

“No!”

“Fine,” replied Mrs. Jones, for she was not done with the conversation.

That night Mrs. Jones created a plan to get Mr. Jones out of the house and into a new one. She knew it was going to be hard.

The next day Mrs. Jones told Mr. Jones she was going to his favorite coffee shop. This was part of her plan to move out. Mr. Jones agreed and they left. Usually someone else conducting this trick would just drive straight to the new house, eventually that’s what Mrs. Jones would do. But she promised Mr. Jones coffee, plus she wanted some too. They drank their coffees in the car, because Mr. Jones thinks it’s silly to sit at a table in a restaurant just to drink coffee. This worked out great for Mrs. Jones because Mr. Jones will be too distracted by his coffee to pay attention to where they’re going. Mrs. Jones decided to buy a house far away from their old neighborhood so Mr. Jones wouldn’t be able to go back to the old house.

Once they arrived in the neighborhood, Flyaway Dove was what it’s called; Mrs. Jones drove all the way to the back and pulled into a small but beautiful house in the corner. Mr. Jones still had no idea; he was drinking his coffee, focusing on every sip. He has been very cautious whenever he drinks coffee in the car because once he took a sip and the car hit a bump causing the coffee to spill all over his favorite shirt. Mrs. Jones saw that Mr. Jones was looking up from his coffee. Oh know, thought Mrs. Jones, if I could just get him in the house everything will work out like it was planned.

“Where in the world are we!?” shouted Mr. Jones.

“Iowa?” squeaked Mrs. Jones.

“I know we’re in Iowa!” yelled Mr. Jones, angrily.

“Well,” stumbled Mrs. Jones. “We are at our new house!” Mrs. Jones said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

“What!” yelled Mr. Jones, spilling his coffee all over himself. “I demand you take me home right now!”

“No! We are living in this house weather you like it or not!” shouted Mrs. Jones. Now, Mrs. Jones never shouted that loud. Actually, she never shouts at all! Mr. Jones decided not to argue. He figured it was better off that way. Mrs. Jones got out of the car and walked into the house as if she’s owned it for years. She was already familiar with the house, because she visited it multiple times while Mr. Jones was at work. Her favorite room was the third-floor bedroom. She especially liked the doves on the wallpaper. Whenever she came she would go up there and read her book. Mr. Jones followed her, arms crossed with his feet dragging the rest of his body along. “What do you think?” asked Mrs. Jones, cheerfully. That’s what she does to get rid of her bad mood.

“It’s nice,” replied Mr. Jones, looking around. He wasn’t just trying to please Mrs. Jones; he really did like the house.   Mrs. Jones showed Mr. Jones around the house.  Since all the furniture in the old house was broken they only got valuable things, clothes and other belongings.  The new house had no furniture at all.  So the first night they slept on the ground in sleeping bags.