Home Hunters: Episode 237
“Welcome back to Home Hunters on Thunder Pear TV, the only network owned entirely by a publishing company… somehow! I’m your host, Calhoun Maroon, and with me today are Abe and Ann, a pair of underwater diving instructors out searching for their new home. Abe wants a nine-story bedroom with platinum finishes in all the bathrooms, whereas Ann’s only concern is where the home falls on her local ley-line map. With a team of real estate experts, as well as our fake estate experts, we’ve scoured the local areas to find them a perfect place to lay their heads.”
Option #1
“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Abe scans the empty field, save only for the single structure, squinting against the late evening glow. “There isn’t a house here.”
“Just a porta-potty,” Ann concurs.
“That’s right, I am pleased to welcome you to one of the safest homes you’ll have the joy of owning. Afraid of robbers, vagrants, even solicitors? Well you can flush all those worries down the pipes, because nobody targets a house they don’t even know is there.” Calhoun walks up to the rectangular cuboid and knocks against it. The sound is weak, exactly like he’s hitting a thin wall of plastic. “You see it may not look it, but this is actually a working porta-potty.”
Abe and Ann share a brief, semi-concerned look. “We just said th-”
“But what you don’t realize is that this is only the entrance to the actual house. You see, inside the bowl, tucked up against the underside, are a series of switches. Pressing them in the correct order opens the stairway underground, leading to your entirely self-enclosed chamber of safety. No way for anyone to get in without you knowing, not even sunlight can sneak inside, so your skin will thank you for the lack of windows.” Calhoun begins to unbutton his lavender shirt’s right sleeve, folding it up the length of his arm. “You will want to have a hand-washing station near the entrance, though. As I said, this is a working porta-potty.”
Frantically, Ann slaps at Abe’s arm. “I don’t think we can handle that many stairs. Your knees, you know.” The desperation on her face only grows worse as Calhoun reaches for the door, fingers already wiggling.
“Maybe let’s try the next one,” Abe calls.
Although Calhoun can’t hide his disappointment, he dutifully starts the process of fixing his sleeve.
Option #2
“Why is there so much screaming?” Ann’s hands were over her ears, trying in vain to drown out the howls.
Across the hall, Abe was running his fingers along the wallpaper, noticing that the stains seemed to shift in design. What at first appeared to be nothing more than evidence of a leaky pipe morphed each time it left his sight, turning more and more into a grisly nightmare.
“That must be the neighbors,” Calhoun offered pleasantly. I’m sure they’ll make peace with one another soon.”
“It’s not even words, just ungodly wails and moans.” Through her gritted teeth, Ann did manage to spit out a few more words. “Oh shit, is that an original fireplace?”
Calhoun slapped the bricks in a way that sent dust swirling up into the shape of a severed head, then moved onto pointing out the various features. “Great eye, Ann. Not only original, but this is a Vrandal piece. Said to be one of the greatest, and maddest, designers of our time, he was obsessed with building a home that could cut a door into the very pits of hell. Luckily, this one didn’t quite work, so it’s yours for a fair price.”
The stain on the wall was getting more detailed, specific, and Abe was almost certain one of the figures had started to resemble himself. “I think we’d still like to see the last option, if possible.”
A loud clunk, like a body part dropping down a chimney, came from the fireplace as Calhoun stepped away. “Too bad, sounds like this place took a liking to you.”
Option #3
Natural light, open floor-plan, updated kitchen, no nearby neighbors, even a slice of yard to call their own. Abe and Ann gaped in awe as they looked around, scanning for hidden signs of poop-switches or morphing stains. None appeared.
“So this place is just… a house, right?” Ann looked under a couch cushion, as if expecting a gremlin to hop out.
“Not just a house,” Calhoun corrected. “Why, with the sleek design, abundance of space, and outstanding functionality, this place is unquestionably a home.”
Abe yanked open a door, revealing several brooms and an old mop. They weren’t even wiggling slightly to imply sentience or possession. “I think I love it. I mean, I do love it. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Let me assure you, with this property what you see is what you get. Given the asking price, they made sure to put their best foot forward.”
Abe and Ann exchanged a look once more, this one even more terrified than outside the porta-potty. Steeling his nerve, Abe asked the inevitable question. “And how much does this one cost, exactly?”
Conclusion
“After a lot of debate, going back and forth, I’m happy to say that we recently closed on Option #2.” Abe pats Ann on the arm, only to be greeted by a thundering “WHAT?” as she tries to hear him over the noise-canceling headphones.
“Sure, our home shares a dimensional wall with a pit of everlasting torture, but the cost was low enough that we’ll be able to actually pay it off within our lifetimes, as well as make some improvements,” Abe continues. “We’re going to build a crafting/sanity shed away from the fireplace in hopes Ann will finally be able to sleep without dreaming of blood, and I’ve started painting over the water stain every morning when it soaks through the latest coat. It might not be what we originally pictured, but its already started to feel like a home, right darling?”
“WHAT?”
“That’s right. Thanks Thunder Pear TV, and thanks Calhoun Maroon. I’m sure we’ll be happy here for a very long time.”
The camera pulls back, just barely capturing the shadow looming on the wall behind Abe and Ann. It isn’t the size that’s so disturbing. It’s that shadows aren’t supposed to drool.