We open on a mansion--- one that has seen better days--- somewhere in New England. Surrounding the building are tall trees, unmanicured shrubs, dead or dying flowers, and overgrown patches of grass. Preceding the property is an iron gate with a broken lock, and standing in front of it is a fairy.
The fairy looks at the mansion, then down at her phone, squints, and sighs. She enters the property and trudges through the wild front yard, nearly losing one of her shoes to an overturned tree root. Once at the front door, she removes bits of vegetation that attached themselves to her body and prepares to knock. However, just before her fist touches the door, it swings open, and she is pulled inside without time to comprehend what is happening.
Now inside, she is flung to the floor as the door is slammed shut behind her and locked tight. The fairy is flipped onto her back, while a tall figure is looming over her with chaos in his eyes that shocks her into silence. The figure inches uncomfortably close to her face and says….
“Did the landlord send you?!”
The Fairy (Hope): “What?”
The Figure (Sherry): “Were you sent by the person that owns this land?”
Sherry: “What about the neighbors--- did one of them send you?”
Sherry: “FBI? CIA? Homeland?!”
Hope: “Why the hell would Homeland Security be—?!”
Sherry: “Answer the question!”
Hope: “NO!! For fucks sake, I was just here to answer the ad!”
Sherry: “Oh, why didn’t you say so?”
Now, as if the last couple of minutes didn’t happen, the figure smiles down at the fairy— she notices his fangs. Once again, he yanks her around like an old ragdoll and lifts her off the floor.
Sherry: “So, you wanna be my new roomie? In that case, allow me to introduce myself. The name is Sheridan O’Reilly, but you may call me Sherry for short…Unless the guy I buy meth from comes lookin’ for me, then my name is Bram.”
Hope: “Did you just say met—?”
Sherry (pulling at Hope’s arm): “Come on, let me give you the full tour!”
Sherry gives Hope a tour of the mansion, taking her from room to room so she can judge its quality. However, there is not much to judge, or rather too much to judge. Each room is shown to be bug-infested, full of random junk, covered in various substances, and/or missing portions of the walls.
Sherry: “First off, we have the kitchen and dining areas, with all the newest appliances and the finest dining table you will ever see. (Most of the appliances were made around the 60s and 70s, and the “dining table” is a ping-pong table).”
Sherry: “Next up is the parlour, which I have personally decorated with only the highest quality furniture. I also have displayed some of my favorite pieces of art on the walls. (The furniture is either tacky, torn up, has a weird smell, or some combo of the three. Also, none of it matches. As for the art pieces, most are posters of obscure metal/grunge bands, and the rest are shitty homemade collages).”
Hope (with a fake smile): “It’s certainly a very unique space you’ve made for yourself, isn’t it?”
Sherry (proudly): “It is.”
Sherry (but now in a different part of the mansion): “Upstairs is where the majority of bedrooms are located and one of the bathrooms and the hall closet.”
Hope (looking up at the ceiling): “What was that?”
Sherry: “Oh..., nothing. Something probably just fell over in the attic.”
*Even louder moaning sound*
Hope (fluttering up to the attic door): “Don’t you think we should go—?”
Sherry: “(Tugs Hope back down by the bottom of her dress) DON’T GO UP THERE!! (Turns her around and looks her dead in the eye) Never go in the attic, ever!!”
Hope (slightly terrified): “O-kay.”
Sherry: “And finally, we have the basement-slash-wine-cellar-slash-my-bedroom. Also, known as, The Shag Pad.”
A neon sign that reads “The Shag Pad” lights up out of nowhere, and more lights proceeding illuminates the rest of the basement. Now able to see it wholly, Hope notices that the basement is divided into four distinct areas: wine and other alcoholic beverages, one for storing random/suspiciously expensive items, one that looks like a mini sex dungeon, and one bedroom-ish area.
Hope (so confused): “Umm…, very classy.”
Sherry (proudly): “Right! Most people think it's weird that the sex dungeon is separate from the bedroom, but I think it’s much more classy this way. (Gives Hope a friendly, if a bit hard, pat on the back) You get me.”
Hope (uncomfortable and confused): “Ya.”
Sherry and Hope return to the parlour to discuss further possibly living together.
Sherry (smiling and rubbing his hands): “Sooo, what do you think? Roommates?”
Hope: “I…umm…er…The thing is, I don’t know if this is the right fit for me. The mansion is very…unique, and you seem to be a nice guy…, but I don’t think I should leave my current home yet.”
Sherry (curiously): “Oh, why’s that?”
Hope: “Well, I live with my mother, and she depends on me for chores and stuff. Plus, I’m not sure if I’m ready to live so far…so far away…from…”
Hope’s mind flashes to memories of herself and her mother living together over the years.
Hope’s Mother: “Hopey, when you get off work, can you run some errands for me? I even made a little list for you, so you don’t forget anything (unrolls a list 20 feet long).”
Hope’s Mother: “You should cook more and eat out less; frozen dinners don’t count.”
Hope: “Mom, I work anywhere between 12 and 14 hours a day. I’m too tired to cook when I get home.”
Hope’s Mother: “Are you too tired or just lazy? Think about it.”
Hope (facepalming): *Groans*
Hope’s Mother (yelling into the next room): “Hope, how much do you weigh!?”
Hope (yelling back): “Why do you need to know!?”
Hope’s Mother: “I’m signing you up on a dating site, and it needs your weight for the profile!”
Hope (rushing over to her mother): “MOM!! You can’t sign me up for online dating without my permission! It's psychotic!”
Hope’s Mother: “Oh, please. I’m your mother, and I know what’s best for you. Besides, there are a lot of beautiful and successful women on here you’d love.”
Hope: “I don’t care. I don’t want to be on a dating site.”
Hope’s Mother: “ But look. This one is a lawyer, and this one is a doctor.”
Hope: “I’m a doctor, Mom.”
Hope’s Mother (condescendingly): “In child psychology.”
Hope’s mind returns to the present, where Sherry is staring at her expectantly.
Hope (smiling broadly): “You know what, I think my mom will get along just fine without me.”
Sherry (smiling back): “Does that mean what I think?”
Hope: “Sherry, you got yourself a roommate.”
Hope extends a hand for Sherry to shake but is given a bone-crushing hug instead. After he releases her, he sprints in the direction of his room.
Hope (confused): “Where are you going!?”
Sherry (shouting from somewhere): “Gotta get a copy of the lease for you to sign so we can make this official! Also, I gotta call my dealer for party supplies— we’re about to celebrate!”
Hope (flatly): “Of course.”
Hope sits in the parlour alone, listening to the sounds of Sherry hollering and throwing shit around looking for the lease.
Hope (sarcastically): “Well, this is going to be…Fun.”