The M.O.F.T

When the neighbor finally passed away, Oli and C.J. finally get to see what was going on in old Mr. Nameless's house. But it is something much different from what they expected.


4. The Shoe Zipper Fiasco


“Lucy, I’m hoooooooome!” Oli shrieked, as he barged into my house without knocking. That’s another thing about Oli, he seems to love to make references from sitcoms from the 1950’s.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” I greeted Oli at the door and gave him a curtsey, “You ready to go on an adventure?”

“Ummm.... I guess. Where are adventuring to?” Oli looked a little concerned. I tend to take him to places that make him feel uncomfortable. He hadn’t trusted me since we went into the sewers and a rat claimed Oli’s leg as his mate. Oli couldn’t look anything or anyone in the eye for a couple of months.

You’ll see,” I grinned. “Come on,” I hoisted myself up and grabbed his arm. “Vamanos!” I screamed loudly. I grabbed Oli’s arm and pulled him through the doorway. He hesitated, but finally gave up when I bit his hand.

“You’re cutting off my arm circulation!” he moaned.

“Shut up and walk faster,” I barked at Oli and I dragged him down the sidewalk. “Close your eyes.”

“Where are we going?!” Oli shrieked as I pulled him across the street. “Can you at least tell me when we are going over a curb!?”

“Just walk!” I screamed. I walked him around the block four or five times and stopped back in front of my house. “Okay, open your eyes.”

“That was unnecessary. Why did you take me around the block for a mile just to bring me back to your house, you dingball?”

“Not my house, his house,” I pointed to the old yellow peeling house in which Mr. Nameless had died the day before.

“Ughhhh, no! That’s creepy! Are you suggesting breaking into old Mr. Nameless’s house? What if his ghost is haunting the house or something?” I knew Oli had this crazy fear of ghosts, and seemed scared of a one in this house, so I decided that we needed to go into this house if it’s the last thing I do. I always had a dream that we could have one of those ghost hunting reality shows.

“Come on Oswald, if there are ghosts we can go all ghostbuster and destroy them.” I grabbed his pleated shirt collar and dragged him around the back of the house.

Please don’t stretch my shirt!” he flinched.  

“I’m not going to hurt you or your precious shirt. We’re just going to slip into the back door to be more inconspicuous.” We trudged through the overgrown weeds until we reached the screen door that covered the peeling red back door. The rusty screen door wouldn’t open.

“Well this is gonna be a problem, ain’t it?” I whispered.

“Here, let me do it,” Oli smiled at me. He fidgeted with the door and tried to open it, but did not prevail. “Okay, gimme your shoe.”

“No! I don’t want to step in this mud in my socks! Who knows what kind of stuff is in this yard? I haven’t had my tetanus shot yet!” I gasped.

Oli crouched down and grabbed my ankle and pulled my leg up into the air. “GIMME YOUR SHOE!” he yelled. He yanked my sneaker off of my foot.

“Well that was rude.”

“Shut up and let me work my leprechaun magic.” he mumbled, fumbling with the door with my new shoe that I got on sale from Target.

“You’re not Irish. You know that, right?” I was worried he had hit his head or gone into shock.

“Liar. I’m more Irish than a potato,” he offered in an awful Irish accent. “Now let me get back to work. The shoes don’t go with your pants, just by the way.” He turned around and blankly stared at me, thinking. “Get out of the way.” He took a couple of steps away from the door. He catapulted the shoe at the screen door’s locked handle with an extreme amount of force. As the shoe left his hand you could hear a pop come from Oli, like he had pulled something. It made an intense clattering and the rubber sole ripped off of my twenty dollar shoe, and the screen door swung open, crackling with the sounds of the rust trickling down from the mesh screen door.

“OH GOD!” Oli yelled. “WHY DID I DO THAT?” He seemed really distressed. His British poise escaped as he gasped. Oli was not the athletic type. He got in a lot of fights, but most of it was self defense. You didn’t get beaten up by Herbert Goldstein everyday without learning to cower properly. “I think I dislocated my shoulder. Leave me here to die. I don’t think I can go on.” He collapsed onto the floor of Mr. Nameless yard. Drama queen... He immediately shot up and whined, “Ewww! I landed on something squishy” He turned around and showed me his back. He seemed very disgruntled, and I stared. I tried to hold in my explosion of laughter as I realized that a snail had become intertwined in the fabric of his plaid shirt. I told him not to worry about it, and he let out a high pitched squeal.

I tried to take my mind off of the snail that had been obliterated. “Now’s the hard part,” I worried. I stared at the peeling bright red door. The door itself looked sturdy, but you could see that the door knob lock was not helping keep the door shut. The police had put a padlock on the door keeping it held tight. “How we gonna do this, boyo?”

“Um... Well.. I don’t.... I don’t think that the shoe is going to help open this lock,” Oli contemplated.  

“Okay. Watch this,” I mischievously grinned. I had broken into many a lockers in my day after accidentally putting love notes into the wrong people's lockers or a majority of the time for forgetting my own combination. “Come here and close your eyes.” Oli was much too trusting, so in the naive way that he did, he came towards me and shut his eyes, grinning like an idiot. I grabbed the bottom fringe of his jacket and ripped his blue painted zipper off of his varsity jacket that he bought on the internet, not from actually participating in a sport, do mind you.

“It’s okay. I didn’t want to zip that jacket up anyways,” he moaned snidely.

“Stop being a baby. I promise I will buy you a fancy new zipper. Better than that old zipper.” I patted his head, and turned towards the door. I looked at the lock and smiled. This is the exact padlock that Zayn Gilberts had on his locker, which I had fidgeted with many times before due to many mistaken love notes. I took the sky blue zipper and stuck the corner into the little key opening. I’m not going to go into detail on how I pick locks, but in a nutshell, after a couple of attempts, I was able to open the padlock. It clicked loudly and the little “U” shaped bar flew up from the lock.

I slid the lock off the door, and suddenly everything behind the door came crashing down. Boxes and boxes came sliding down out into the grassy yard and crushed all of the flowers, which I felt a little bad about it retrospect. The boxes were filled with toasters, jars of peanut butter, and toilet paper. I found a really cute purse in the clutter, but I guess the peanut butter attracted mice, and the mice got lost in the bag, so the bag was filled with mouse skeletons.

Oli and I pushed aside the crumbling cardboard boxes filled with random junk. The glass candle holder and the porcelain pig figurines shattered as they fell onto the stone path. We cleared out the doorway and the cardboard disintegrated as it fell onto the floor. Oli craned his head into the door.

“Hey, I think this is the basement,” Oli muffled. I looked into the dank and dusty room to see it filled with empty boxes. The things that had fallen through the door were the last things that sat in the dark abyss called the basement. I think that the Mr. Nameless’ son came by to pick up all of his fathers stuff and load it into his pick-up truck. The walls were coated in empty cardboard boxes that had obviously been put together some time around fifty years ago.

“Well nothing to do here, let’s go,” Oli whispered exasperatedly.

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