What a Character That Andy Was

My phone rang in the damp house smelling of old fish.
"Andy is back in town," I smiled gleefully when I hung up the telephone. He wants me to go to his place." I turned away from my reflection in the mirror and put my pants on.
Andy's apartment building was damp too. There were also cracks in the floor. I wasn't surprised at the condition he was living in. He had always been a low-key, squat-where-you-choose kind of guy.
"Come in," He said when he cautiously opened the ironically dead-bolted door with a creak. I slowly stepped over some banana peels and into his hole for the week. He was wearing a bathrobe, tied tightly around his run-of-the-mill body.
"I didn't interrupt you, did I?"
"No," he said. "I just figured it was bath time."
"Okay. Good." I noticed a cat stampede by, jumping over the cracks in the floor with ease.
"Have a seat," Andy pointed to the large, orange sofa carefully placed directly across the room from the window. There was an armchair of greenish color sitting perpendicular to it. I sat down with grace and we started talking. We talked about everything then nothing at all. By that time, I realized it was time to let him take his bath.
"Before you leave," he started, "you should come again soon. Bring that friend of ours, that mutual person, you know, who we knew in high school."
"Okay," I smiled and left.
The next time I received a call from Andy was not a moment too soon. It was the next day and Andy was looking to get rid of some beaver pelts for extra money, or money at all. The friend from high school was actually my roommate. We had grown close friends throughout those high school days and decided it be best to move in with each other. Andy breathed loudly on the other end of the line.
"Andy?" my roommate said in surprise. I was dusting the cat and looked up in interest. My roommate's following conversation was exactly:
"Andy? Andy? Andy? Breathing," he smiled, "Andy Breathing, Andy Breathing." It almost turned into a song in my ears, like my roommate was singing him a lullaby.
"What'd he say?" I eagerly asked when my roommate set the phone on the receiver.
"He said he wanted us to come over to his house immediately. He is holding a beaver pelt convention."
"Alright!" I said excitedly. I was always happy to get out of the house, especially to see Andy. My roommate and I locked the cat in it's cage and headed out the door to Andy's. My roommate seemed shocked to witness the squalor that was Andy's habitat. A cat frantically sped past my roommate's feet and was followed by three others.
"Strays?" my roommate asked Andy.
Andy looked up alarmed. He was wearing his bathrobe again.
"No," Andy finally said. "I stole them from the local pet store. I just shoved them in my coat pockets when they were kittens and they've followed me ever since. Probably because I feed them." Andy had a tone of lamentation in his voice for his cats. I looked at the large grey one. He strut over to the largest crack in the floor next to the sofa, which was almost hole-like, and squatted.
"Um...Is he supposed to be doing that?" I asked concerned.
"Yes." Andy replied. "That is where they go to the bathroom. It just falls to the vacant apartment below." I grinned at Andy's and his cat's freeness but my roommate seemed rather agitated at the idea.
"Have a seat," Andy smiled courteously and pointed to the couch. We all sat down and smiled politely at one another.
"So..." my roommate trailed. "Where is this convention?"
"Oh!" Andy exclaimed. "It's in my bedroom. I better see how it's going." My roommate gave me a look that said 'is it an imaginary convention?' Andy ran to the bedroom and a few people flooded out, carefully examining their newly bought beaver pelts. I decided to follow Andy and join the excitement, leaving my roommate feeling uncomfortable on the couch. The hallway was long and dark. I had a sense of eerie vibes rush through me, like there was a sinister menace watching over me down the hallway.
"Come here," I heard a whisper come from a door.
"Andy?"
"Come in here," he whispered again, flailing his pale hand through the candle-lit bathroom door. I reluctantly went in and Andy urged me to wear a bathrobe too. I did so, wanting to please him.
"Let's join the convention," he smiled his polite little smile. "I'm going to go check on my roommate," I said.
"Okay. I'll be in there," he pointed to the door across the hall.
"Alright," I smiled widely, watching Andy walk into the convention room. I turned around and looked at the fish shower curtain. I heard a familiar voice in the background and recognized it as my father's. I quickly hopped into the shower and zipped the shower curtain close when my father's hand jabbed through it and grabbed my wrist.
"You're buying Beaver Pelts?" I inquired to the light brown beaver pelt in his other hand.
"Yes," he said quickly. He seemed to be ashamed. "And you shouldn't be here. Beaver pelts are bad for you. You should never buy them."
"Okay." I said resoundingly and stepped past my father, into the living room.
"Are you doing okay?" I asked my roommate when arriving in the darkening living room.
"Let's get out of here," he squirmed in his seat. I noticed a bottle of pills next to the greenish armchair Andy always sat in.
"What are these?" I picked up and opened the bottle out of curiosity. The bottle was unmarked but the pills were little green dots with a black imprint on each one.
"This one says 'Bath Time,'" I giggled. I slid out another but a pile of the Children's Tylenol-sized pills poured out on my hand. "And this one says 'Ranch Language,' I said aloud to my roommate. "I wonder what they are and what these sayings mean?"
"Bath Time?" my roommate mulled over the words with his tongue. I giggled once again until I felt two arms slide around my shoulders. I was instantly in fright.
"Those are my pills," Andy squeezed tighter.
"What are they for?" I asked innocently. "Recreation...and well, they make me take baths a lot. I don't exactly know why."
My roommate joined the conversation with pensivity. "We're just leaving. We're not really interested in your beaver pelts."
"Okay," I said and tried to loosen Andy's grip. He only squeezed tighter.
"You're not going to steal my bathrobe, are you?!!" Andy screamed out in terror. My roommate and I jumped at the sudden change in Andy's voice.
"No, no. Not at all. I was going to change." Andy grabbed the cloth of the bathrobe and pulled. Some of my hair was caught in the pulling process.
"Oww!" I screamed in pain. My roommate lunged forward and grabbed the front part of the bathrobe. I felt in the middle of a human tug o' war. I karate-chopped both of their hands away from me and quickly ducked under Andy's shoulder, running into the bathroom, fearful for my father to walk in again. I slipped on my pants and shirt and speed-walked to the living room and out the door with my roommate.
That was the last time we ever heard from Andy. I heard from his ex-girlfriend not too long ago and she said he had jumped a plane to Japan and is now living with a prostitute. Good for Andy.