The House: AKA The Closet


                Once there was a house. Now it's obvious to everyone that there has been a house more than once, but that's how you start a story, so I did. This house was a very very very fine house. It had two cats in the yard, and life there wasn't so hard. It was nice. Well, it was nice unless somebody agrivated or provoked it. If that happened, it was quite mean indeed.

                The house had already rid itself of aproximately 267 occupents, each because they had done the one thing that you never do. The thing that agrivated the house the most. They had dared to put their clothes in... the closet!

                The house felt good about the fact that it looked good. It didn't, however, feel good about the fact that its tenants thought it looked good enough that they just had to put their clothes in its closet. In fact, it hated that. You see, the closet was the place where the house truly lived. The closet is where the thoughts of the house are created. It is where plans are made and dreams had. Now let me ask you this question. Would you like that kind of place cluttered up with people's socks, undies, and old dresses? No, I don't think you would. Fortunately, the house doesn't think so either, so we are in agreement.

                One fine day, an old man and his dog Fluffy bought the house from a real estate agent that had recommended it. "It's a nice place to settle down when you're going to retire," said the agent.

                "Wait a minute," said the teenage boy who was standing there with his cat Percy. "I'm not retiring yet. I haven't even begun."

                "You can raise your farm here," said the agent to the middle-aged man holding a chicken. "There's plenty of land available on the property for that.

                "Well then it's a good thing I live alone," said the man in his thirties with his bird Turkey on his shoulder. "And it's a good thing i don't have a lot of pets."

                "But be assured that this house can support a lot of pets," said the agent to the girl in her mid twenties who was holding a purse which contained her pet duck who's name was Quackie. "Now why don't we just head on in and check it out."

"But I can't fit through the door," said the Incredible Hulk to the agent.

                The little mouse with a crumb in its mouth eventually scurried through the door and into the house. The agent stood outside a moment waiting to get his tenants first reaction. He was a little confused about something, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Something was wrong with this picture. "I've got it!" he suddenly cried out loud. "You didn't kick your shoes on the rug to clean off the mud before you walked in."

                "But I don't have any shoes," said the Loch Ness Monster as it crawled up the stairs and into the livingroom.

                "Well then, uh, maybe you forgot to hang your coat on the front hook," the agent said now more confused than ever. Why was that?

                "I don't have a coat," Count Dracula replied. "But maybe you should hang your coat up and stay for a little while. Moo-hoo-huh-huh-ha-haa! You know, I like hooks. They can do so much for the human body. Moo-hoo-huh-huh-ha-haa! Come in! Come in!"

                "No, I don't think I will," said the agent who's name happened to be Jonathon Harker. "I'll just stay right out here. I don't know why, but I somehow think that I will not return if I go in there. Maybe you should lose the evil laugh."

                "Moo-hoo-huh-huh-ha-haa!" replied Herman Munster.

                "That's it!" Mr. Harker cried out. "I finally figured out what's wrong with you. I'm getting out of here!" He ran.

                What the agent had figured out was that his tenant was an out-of-control changeling. Shape and identity could be changed, but it was usually controled. This one didn't appear to have that control. The agent had run because he was worried about what it might turn into next. Who knows what might have happened to him.

                The agent really didn't have to worry. The changeling turned into a pair of workpants. The pants, a little confused as to why they were confused about being confused, (pants aren't usually given the ability to think,) walked calmly to the open closet and stepped in, quite confused about the whole movement bit as well. "Oh well," the changeling sighed as it became a shirt and hung itself while closing the closet door at the same time. "Life goes on."

                The house was confused. What was it supposed to do? This thing in its closet looked like clothes, but it had also been some other things. Maybe the house should let it live here.Then again, it was clogging up the house's thinking space. Maybe it should take action.

                This debate, the house Vs. itself, continued for a long time and got more heated with each passing minute. Finally, it got so heated that the house just decided to end it all, and so it blew up. And to think that you thought the house was the main character.


                                The end.