Crazy house Girl

Crazies Among us, Entry Fore

I write to tell you the tragic story of the Crazy House Girl. No, this is not me. I am crazy, but not in this way. The Crazy House Girl,or CHG, was...well...

She went to a normal school, like the rest of us. She looked like a normal girl. She talked like a normal girl. It wasn't until I entered her room--through a window--that I began to suspect she was a fewfries short of a value meal.

The window was necessary because the door was utterly blocked by clothes and...things. Things that I refused to investigate.

You perhaps think I mean there were a few books,some socks, things that could be easily swept to the side.

No.

There was achest-high mound of clothes n' things. Right in front of the door.

The room got worse from there.

There were food containers scattered about. A shattered television set with candy boxes in it. A heap of clothes, paper, and old broken toys from which, periodically, came the unmistakable sounds of a squeaky mouse wheel, and squeaky mice. Shoes. That weren't hers. Clothes-- shirts-- covered in what I valiantly tried to believe was chocolate syrup.

Only the bed stood relatively free of the drifitnig dunes o' filth. And I stayed on the bed, huddled against the open window, until-- for some mysterious reason-- I began to have an allergy attack. I asked where the bathroom was, so I could grab some tissue, and was told "Oh, we don't go there.”

The living room?

"Oh, no.”

The kitchen? Paper towels?

"We never leave this room. That's not safe."

By now I was about to choke, or start flooding the room with snot, so I dared to ask if there was anything tissue- like in the nightmare room we currently sat in.

"Oh, just use the curtains!”

I looked at the curtains. Which had fleas. Before I could comment, she said "Oh, I'm gonna grab a snack-- you want some cheese?" and headed for her closet.

And while her back was turned, I dove out the window and fled into the night.