I think once our neighbor kid next door said the guy was an author or a writer or something (is there a difference?), so Molly and I decided to give him a nickname because, well… calling him CWG makes him less threatening.
Less ‘rape-y.’
So minus having to stare at him through a giant panoramic window like Monica and Rachel, we’re not too keen on having to ask him for anything. Or walk by his door.
Or talk to him.
Or look at him.
Ever.
Although… I’m sure if we were given the opportunity to poke him with a long stick, we would totally do it. Yup. We’d totally poke him with a stick.
Hard.
Not because we’re mean, but because he’s creepy (hence the name) and probably deserves it – especially if he really does have stolen underwear in his place.
Ugh. Heebie jeebies.
I could go on, and give you more details, but it would only incite nightmares – in you and me both. I know you’re probably totally curious, but trust me on this.
When I finally remove my eyes from the window I’ve been gazing out and glance back at Molly, she is staring at me, bottom lip jutting out in the most unflattering way. Smirking, I ask, “What? Do you think you can influence me by pouting? I’m not your boyfriend.”
Molly responds by widening her eyes, and raises her hands up to her chin like girls do when they’re pretending to be a kitten. I laugh because she’s being utterly ridiculous. “Do you really think that’s going to work - the pouty kitty act? What am I, a guy?” I reach under my lap blanket to retrieve the Cheetos hidden there, open the bag, and take a loud crunchy bite out of a big one.
The big fat ones are my favorite. Wait… did that come out sounding kind of pervy?
The crunching is the only noise in the room besides Molly’s fake kitten meowing.
I lick my fingers and hold up the plastic Cheetos bag, peering inside to pick out another good one. I root around for a bit then hold one up, speaking to it. “Hey you, little orange guy. My, don’t you look yummy.” I pop it into my mouth, crunching down and chewing. “Mmmm, you taste so scrumptious. Thank you Molly for bringing these delightful little nuggets into our home.”
“There’s more where that came from – how about I make sure the cabinet is stocked at all times…?” Molly sweetly attempts to entice me. She must be desperate.
Although I must say, her bribery is almost working.
But not quite.
I cock my eyebrow. “Are you trying to make me fat? What other offers do you have besides that,” I ask, popping another fat Cheeto into my open mouth.
Crunch.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
“Please stop doing that,” Molly says, wrinkling her nose in revulsion as I stick out my tongue at her. “Your tongue is disgusting.”
“Well, please stop harassing me. I’m not going to cave just because you bring junk food home - you know I can’t stand your brother. No offense,” I add hastily.
“He can’t stand you either. Plus he thinks you’re a raging lunatic, so I guess you have something in common.”
“What?!” I shriek. “What do you mean he thinks I’m a psycho? Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Hello, I didn’t say psycho – I said lunatic. There’s a big difference.”
Oh really, I think sarcastically to myself, that’s supposed to make me feel better? I’m not a psycho, I’m a lunatic? I don’t have time to question it further because Molly continues. “I’m sorry Cece, but when he was here all you did was yell and screech at him like a mental person. Not to mention you threatened him with both mace and karate. So, yeah...”
Hmmm. She might have a point.
But still - whose side was she on?
I shift on the couch in a huff and point an orange, cheesy finger in her direction accusingly. “We both know it was a simple misunderstanding, and you were just standing there. You could have told me he was your brother, you jerk.”
“I did tell you he was my brother… eventually…” Molly awkwardly mumbles this last part.
Bored, I begin licking the cheese off my fingers, one by one – kind of like a cat cleaning itself.
Sensing herself losing control of the situation, Molly consoles. “Okay, okay Cece… water under the bridge, water under the bridge. No big deal.” She presents her palms to me in surrender like she’s trying to sooth a snarling dog.
“Yeah, maybe it wasn’t a big deal to you. I’m the one who now has a reputation as a nut job… It’s extremely embarrassing. Thanks.”
“Well, I can definitely think of one way you can make it better and it would really be helping me out.” Molly smiles and sits on the end of the couch, putting her arm around my shoulder and squeezing. “You know you love me.”