He just waggled his penis in my face.
WHY?
WHAT?
WHY?
He wants me to do his resume, and I’m totally going to sneak that in:
Timmy O’Malley. Graphic designer. Handyman. Background villain.
Next thing I know, Timmy is once again in my overalls, posing proudly. “Take a picture of me!”
I shake my head and snap a picture.
“Send it to your friend!” he demands.
Me:
OMG, he really wants me to send you this picture.
I send her the picture.
Me:
Sorry to visually assault you.
Alice:
Oh wow. Yeah, he’s having an episode.
What up Bam Bam?
Timmy approaches me with an exaggerated grin.
“I was hoping when you woke up, you’d be nicer. And you are,” he says, pulling me into a hug.
“Okay?” I reply, unsure how to respond.
“I’ll clean up for you forever,” he promises, as if this is supposed to erase all his previous behavior. He pulls me into a hug. “I played with your cat while I watchedThe Mandalorian,by the way,” he adds, as if that’s a groundbreaking accomplishment.
Then, without warning, he bursts into song. “We Could Be Heeeeroooooes,” he belts out at the top of his lungs.
His mind is such a hectic place. I don’t know where he comes up with half the things he does, and I don’t think I want to.
Me:
He just said ‘I was hanging up your clothes. I can see in the dark now.’
Alice:
Exactly how much White Claw has he had?
He’s sounding like an unmedicated schizophrenic having a bouncy day.
CHAPTER 37
MY LIFE IS A CHAINSAW MASSACRE