The Money Pit

The Money Pit

We aren’t supposed to be here. This was a mistake.

“Hear that God? You made a mistake. We’re not supposed to be here.” I walked around the dumpy house.

Missy bought this online, without a real estate agent. She wired the money, signed the deed.
Indeed, it’s a done deed. This must be a mistake.

“Isn’t this great? I love this old house. Honey, we can make this so great,” Missy said enthusiastically. She was dancing around the living room.

“I don’t think so. It’s a big money pit. I can’t believe you bought this, and on the internet to boot. Didn’t you even see it first?” I pushed against a wall, it moved.

“Ah c’mon George. It was a steal! We saved so much money!”

“A steal is right! They stole our money. This is a big mistake. Maybe it’s not too late to get some of that back.” I pushed against another wall. This one moved further than the last one.

Missy grabbed my hand. We wound our way from the living room into the kitchen. This room was worse than the living room. Appliances from the 1950’s, paneling from the 1960’s, countertops were peeling away, sinks stained from leaking faucets, linoleum curling up at the corners and worn in the traffic areas. A real mess.

“Can’t you just see the possibilities?” Misty crooned.

Since I couldn’t, I backed up to a wall which caved in under my weight. Seems the walls surrounding the living room and kitchen were false, and a hidden room appeared.

“Did anyone tell you about this room?” I stared at the contents. Money, lots of money. On the floor, stapled to the walls. On the ceiling. “Are you sure this is our house?”

“I signed the papers.”

A done deed, indeed.

W/C 300