Have you ever wondered what your home would say if it could speak?
Maybe it is the writer's brain in me, but I think of this often. So I decided to write a story about a sentient wall in my home with a lot of attitude and a mouth to match. Enjoy. And feel free to give a reaction in the comments below.
"Okay, but you have been saying that for three months."
Her husband gestured to the wall as if that answered all of the questions to the world and solved a few equations while at it.
Mavourneen held up a finger to the wall in a symbol to wait. It was a very motherly gesture. One she would really have to break before her child came into the world or she would become a stereotype.
"I just want to make a plan for it. And I want your help." She told her Lovely. "I have no talent at decorating."
"Or organizing, or de-cluttering. Or most cooking."
"Hey!" Mavourneen turned to the wall and glared. "I am a great cook."
"My smoke inhalation begs to differ." Snarked the wall of her home. "You set off the smoke alarm every time you cook past 8PM, then I have to choke on that and freeze my paint off because you open all the doors and windows in the middle of the night."
Mavourneen had no response to that. Often her neighbors only heard from her when the alarm went off at 3AM because that is when bacon must to done.
"But I'm putting up the pictures." She offered instead.
"The ones leaning against me in the closet? The ones that have been there since the first week you moved in and have moved only twice to make room for the shoes you don't wear? Those pictures? Or the ones in a box in the corner of the room you never go into? The ones that are going to corrode from being cuddled next to unused computer parts?"
Now it was Lovely's turn to glare. Though his glares always came off as manly pouts. "There is no need for that."
"I'm just saying that the plan of hanging pictures has been restated for three months, if not more, and I see no evidence of progress."
Mavourneen turned back to her husband, who the conversation really should be directed towards. "If we can just get some command hooks so we don't kill the walls, we can hang them this weekend and it will look like a real room."
"A really cluttered room." Came from the wall.
They both did their best to ignore that. "Why can't we use the ones we already have?" Lovely requested.
"Because they are tiny. I thought they had some hold, but they are for less than half a pound of weight each, not the three pounds I thought. They don't even hold up the aprons." Mavourneen explained. She didn't mention the pans. They both remembered the pans incident perfectly well. She no longer worked in the kitchen when Lovely napped for a reason.
"Don't we have photo gripper ones?"
"We can use those on some of them. But I want your help deciding where to put them. You don't want your rug above your computer."
"Because hanging rugs on my isn't offensive." The drywall complained.
"Decorative rug." Mavourneen shot at the wall and then turned back. "I just want the room to look lived in."
"Oh it does, that."
Mavourneen turned to the wall again, pointing at it as if that would change anything. "I've been busy. And you are supposed to only care about spider infiltration and if a mouse comes looking to set up shop. Not critique my homemaking skills. I will design on you any way I please."
"That's what she said."
Mavourneen turned a blank stare to her husband. "Screw it, lets use nails. I'm up for the damage bill."
Before her husband could come into the conversation with her and the supposed-to-be-inanimate object, and most likely regret become referee, the wall was willing to enter into that argument.
"Also what she said. And if you even think of taking nails and a hammer to me I'll drop those pictures so fast the flooring and I will have a blood feud." No paint rippled or texture changed. The wall just had a voice. But Mavourneen could tell it was gearing up for a fight.
While she had no way of knowing if the sentient wall could in fact push nails from itself, she was at the end of her patients. "Then keep your opinions to yourself. Or I will leave crayons out for the kids across the way and let you feel a little art culture. This is our apartment and we can decorate or not how we please. We keep this place clean, if cluttered, and you should just appreciate what you get." She gestured to the largest wall. "This will be a display, and you will like it. Because you are a happy home that is going to reflect a happy family and productive wife, even if it ends you."
Her eyes narrowed. "Or do I have to call the maintenance man about the curving bathroom wall again. I think it looks like mold."
"I was put in that way." Came the now tight voice. "It is not my fault my pipes come out that far. I'm perfectly sanitary, and I don't need people pressing on me like I'm damaged goods."
"A likely story." She pointed again. "But I think some pictures are going up. The closet and the spare room ones. And I think you are going to cooperate to show them off to best advantage. Advantage to me. Or I think that wave might be getting suspicious again."
As she turned away the petulant little voice had to put it one more word, so it could have the last.
"Fine, but don't think I have forgotten about the piece of tank threatening to gouge my perfect finish in the Spare Closet."
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