Introduction: Well, It Could be Worse

“ . . . Wow, the ‘rents weren’t kidding when they said this place was a ‘fixer-upper’,” Mary said quietly, still somewhat in shock. This house—no, this dump—was the epitome of a “fixer-upper”. Although she hadn’t expected much of her parents when they said they were sending her out to live on her own in a place they had prepared for her, never once had she dreamed that this was where they were sending her.

Mary snorted and grimaced. She wished that she could have given her parents a piece of her mind at that exact moment. She went over and kicked the refrigerator. Small particles of rust flaked down onto her boot. “What do they think I am? A convict?” she gritted her teeth and took a deep breath in. “I’m stuck here. I might as well learn to live with it.” She sighed and began to look around. Certainly something was in a decently good condition.

Somehow, the place seemed nastier the more she inspected it.

The refrigerator was rusted, and a terribly foul odor was emanating from it. Mary didn’t dare look inside to see what was creating the smell. Next she inspected the sink. The faucet was rusted and the paint in the sink was yellow and chipped. “Wait, aren’t sinks supposed to be made of ceramic?” Mary asked herself. She scratched the surface, and tiny flakes of paint crowded under her nail. A disgusted look crossed her face. She gratefully turned from the sink and to the counter. It wasn’t too bad. The paint was chipping and the surface was . . . rusting? “. . . Okay. Cutting board: absolutely necessary.”

Next was the stereo, and it looked, well, like a stereo. It was rusty like everything else (seriously, how long had her parents left all of this out in the rain?), but it still played without qualms. Next came the sleeping bag, which Mary didn’t even know was there until she hit it with her foot. She cautiously kneeled down to look at it. “I liked it better as a bush,” she said with a smug expression. It, like the fridge, was emanating a foul odor, much like the smell of a post-hiking expedition.

Next was the bathroom—or what was supposed to be the bathroom. How unsanitary . . . and improper. At least this is a quiet street . . . Mary looked inside the rusting shower. The wall of the shower was covered in a thick layer of mold, and the floor was covered with a thin layer of some slimy substance. She took a quick step back and then groaned, “Is anything in this dump clean?” she yelled to the air. It did not reply.

Mary took a moment to compose herself, and then she slowly looked over to the toilet. It looked as if it had once been a tan color, but now it was covered in some brown substance. Mary did not investigate further.

She needed to get away from it all. She spotted some old magazines on the counter. Being too tired from her long ride to her new “home”, she didn’t want to start exercising, nor did she want to listen to music. She picked up the first magazine she found, and then a clean, crisp piece of paper floated out. Mary bent over to pick it up. It was a note from her darling parents. The only thing keeping her from tearing it up was how new it looked. Had her parents recently visited the lot and left her this note? Something didn’t seem right. Mary sat down on the grass, leaned against the cabinet, and began reading.

To our Dearest Daughter,

As you have probably noticed by now, this lot isn’t in the condition that you had probably hoped for, and we realize that. In fact, the only reason we waited so long to send you off was the fact that everything wasn’t dirty enough. Now, I know this may sound harsh, but it’s for your own good, Sweetheart. During your entire life, you’ve never worked, cleaned, or experience hardship, and you never bothered to work or clean. You sat around and did nothing and eventually became spoiled and vain.

Now you have to learn to fend for yourself. Most of the furniture can’t be cleaned and is on the verge of breaking down for good (the refrigerator, for example). You’re going to have to get a job and tough this out.

Now, for the matter of a roof over your head . . . That wasn’t entirely our fault. When we had come to move all of the furniture inside, we had found that the roof had caved in, and it was too late to get the structure rebuilt. I wish we had been able to supply you with an actual home, but the circumstances didn’t allow. Think of it as a camping trip without having to make your own fire and bathe in the river.

Don’t worry about anything happening to you at night. The neighborhood you live in now is quiet, and two good friends of ours live right next door. If you ever need anything, you can go to them.

Good luck, Sweetheart. I promise we’re doing all of this for your own good.

Love,

Mom and Dad

Mary put the magazines away and then sighed. How could her parents do this to her? Couldn’t this be counted as abuse? Never in her life had she felt so betrayed. “For my own good, huh? It won’t be good whenever I get tetanus,” she grumbled. A long, exasperated sigh escaped her lips. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to get a job. It won’t be good if they find me dead from starvation in my front yard,” another sigh came, “This is gonna be a l­ot of work.”