Just Moved In
Short Story
by Joseph Giannini
The big white car pulled up to the small red house. The car
stuck out like a sore thumb in front of the dilapidated home. The noon
sun glared off its freshly waxed hood. Out of the passenger door stepped
a tall, long golden haired women. From the driver's side a man in a
slick Italian suit and sunglasses climbed out. They meticulously scoped
out the surrounding area. They looked over the house with its boarded up
windows and rotting wood. They glanced at each other, at the house,
then back at each other.
Welcome home said the women.
Joseph and Marry had lived a life of luxury. It was a life of
nothing but caviar and Krystal. That was until the suites at Enron sent the
company down shit creek. They walked into the house and examined the rooms.
Wow, what a shit hole. Remarked Joe.
Oh come on said Marry some fresh paint, some new drapes, I think it'll be nice.
I'm sorry we're here. Joe let out with a sigh.
Why? I thought you liked this house
No, not here in the house, here in this situation. A man is supposed
to support his wife, not drag her down into the slums with him.
Marry walked over to Joe and put her arms around him.
Look, so I may not have Prada shoes or own masseuse. As long as I
have you, I'll never need anything else.
That's so cliche sounding I almost believe it.
They both let out a laugh.
I wonder how our neighbors are, said Joe.
Oh did you see their backyard? It looks like a junkyard. Said Marry.
Should we do the small town thing and go introduce ourselves?
Yeah I suppose so. We wouldn't t want to insult the natives.
Joe and Marry stepped outside and headed to the house next door to
them. They walked slowly between the mounds of trash lying all over their
front lawn. They reached the stairs and glanced at one another
hesitantly. Joe proceeded up the stairs to the front door. He gave one last
glance at Marry. She shook her head in a nodding motion. Joe raised his
hand to the door to knock. Just before his hand hit, the door swung open,
his hand nearly striking the man inside.
In the doorway stood a tall lanky man. His hair was filled with dust
and his shirt and pants torn. He gave them a suspicious look.
Hi, my name is Joseph and this is my wife Marry. We just moved next
door. Said Joe politely.
Ya'll the ones who moved into the Murder House, the man said in a
thick southern accent.
If by the murder house you mean the red house next door, then yes. We
are the ones who moved into the murder house. Replied Joe.
The man let out a laugh.
Well the name's Ned. Pleased to meet you.
He reached out and shook their hands. Don't mind the mess. We're renovating the house and things are kind of hectic at the moment. He said with an embarrassed tone. Why don't
you come on in, my wife makes a hell of a pie.
Just Moved In© COPYRIGHT 2004 Joseph Giannini. Reproduction prohibited without permission from the author. 05/27/04
