The Big Bang

Cheesy Closet Careers

I was sitting on my bed over the weekend, reading a really good book when a sharp call interrupted the world that was living inside my head. "I'm sexy and I know it" played through my phone, calling me to answer it. 

"Really, Keefe?" 

"What can I say, it's true." 

"I am never going to let you use my phone ever again."

"Jeez, Foster. No love for the Keefester then?" 

I groan and roll my eyes, hoping he can hear it through the phone. "What's up?"

Barely audible he whispers, "I need your help."

"I'm sorry what?" Oh, man, am I going to enjoy this. 

"I need your help." 

"May I implore why?"

"I got myself stuck in the closet-" I cut him off with a laugh, which he quickly tries to redeem himself, speaking fast and loud so that I hear. "I was looking for something when the door accidentally closed behind me, and there is no doorknob on the inside, so I can't open the door back up."

I continue laughing, trying to catch my breath. After calming my breathing down I say bewildered, "Keefe scene in a predicament, and is asking me for help?" I laugh, "never in my life would I think those words would be coming out of your mouth, 'I need help'" I imitate in my best Keefe voice, which was really bad, "I need a recording of this conversation for proof that this actually is happening." 

"Ha. Ha. Ok. Just hurry up please?" his voice hanging on the edge of desperation.

"Ok. Fine."

He gives me his building and room number and I head over. I get to his room, thankfully it was unlocked, and I make my way in. I was surprised by how big the dorm was, and I was more surprised at how clean it was. 

I call out, "Keefe?"

"In here" I hear a muffled voice coming from what I assume was his bedroom. 

I follow the voice down the hall into a bedroom that could only be Keefes. I stop short in the doorway, staring at the walls which were covered with pictures. Artwork ranging from simple sketches to colored pencils, to oil pastels, to acrylics, to watercolors, to even doodles done on the sides of assignments. I make my way over to his desk where a quick sketch sat on the desk, the more detailed features done halfway, that makes it hard to see who exactly he was drawing. (It looked a bit like me, but you didn't hear that). 

"Hey, Foster? You still here?"

"Oh! Sorry! Coming!" I go to the closet and open the door to find Keefe sitting next to a box labeled, 'KEEFE'S AWESOME SUPPLIES OF AWESOMENESS! DO NOT TOUCH! YOU WILL STINK!'

"I'm guessing that box holds all your pranking supplies," I said. 

"Yup. It's my pride and joy. In there holds the secrets to the universe and the tricks to my show. Now, will you be kind enough to help me up?" 

I roll my eyes and extended my hand, and it takes multiple tries and a lot of heaving on my end before he finally came barrelling out of the closet. Unfortunately, he slams into me as I break his fall. 

 "Ahh, god you weigh a ton!" I wheeze. 

"That's not me, that is just my awesomeness." 

"Well, I don't think all the french fries and milkshakes are helping you any." 

He smirks at me, a glint in his eyes I have come to know as a warning of something's going to happen. "You are going to regret ever saying that," he whispers, his face inches from mine, his breath tickling my cheek. Then in one swift motion, he moves up to sit on me, trapping me to the floor as he yells, "Tickle Fight!"