by Desert Nomad
I wrote this story to the strains of They Might Be Giants. I think that's pretty much the only excuse I have to give. All characters resembling other peoples' characters probably are. I'm making no money, and I respectfully beg their humble pardons for my transgressions. Enough of that.
"I'm here about the ad."
"The one in the paper. About the house?"
"Oh, yeah. The house. Come in." The tiny old man unlatched the chain on his door and let the young man enter. "You're a big one, aren't you?"
"Um, yes sir." Jimmy Proudstar wondered for the millionth time why Terry was making him go househunting. Why did everyone else get to beat up the Friends of Humanity?
"$150 a month rent, I don't fix anything, you don't break anything. Deal?"
Jimmy scratched his head. It sounded pretty good. "Okay."
The little man held out his hand to shake. Suddenly, a shrill shriek rang through the house.
"Noooooo!" A tiny, leathery woman with feathery white hair ran into the room. Truth to tell, she looked a lot like the old man.
"Shut up, you old witch," the man mumbled.
"I'm not a witch, I'm your wife! And I won't let you sell that house to this nice young man!"
The old man let out a gravelly sigh. "Why me?"
"What's wrong with the house?" Jimmy asked.
"It's full of evil! Unspeakable evil! It's a house of the devil! You'll never leave it alive!"
The little old man looked from his wife to Jimmy. "Okay, okay. $100 a month and you can keep the furniture when you leave."
Jimmy thought about it. "Okay."
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