Monday, January 11, 2010

The Roommate Adventures: the end of a beginning

Talia, Elise, and I were wrapped in blankets on the empty floor of our living rooms, like three burritos encased in a foil wrapper from Muchas Gracias. Our house was completely empty, and we were eating pizza from the greasy cheapness that is Little Caesar’s.
“We’ve had some good times in this house,” Talia says.
“We should write down all of our memories so we don’t forget them,” I say.
“Good idea, Jolie. Talia, where’s your laptop?” Elise asks.
We open up a document and get to work.

The Memoirs of the Residents of  945 Sloce St.
AKA Talia, Elise, and Jolie

Remember when……
  • Talia fell on her face in the snow
  • Hutch lived next door
  • The frying pan ignited into FLAMES and Talia responsibly yelled “FIRE!  FIRE” in a loving warning to her roommates and Jolie came running to the rescue. Meanwhile, Elise continued to straighten her hair, paint her nails, and send Facebook messages.  She casually walked downstairs, oblivious to the smoke filled home, and inquired “what’s going on?”
  • We didn’t have hot water, furniture, food, cable, or internet when we first moved in.
  • Jolie and Talia wrote letters home during the snow storm
  • Someone put a rock in our pool
  • We had a Trailer Trash Tragedy. Elise was the murderer, Talia had nutria teeth, Caitlynn Kritten was pregnant, and there was a mannequin head on our table.
  • Talia and Jolie watched trashy MTV shows online… oh wait, they still do.
  • Someone threw eggs at us on our walk home after Drew Arent’s  birthday party at the Mainstreet Pub.
  • We went to Vintage 5th Avenue and had a Movie Montage
  • Talia and Jolie made sushi cupcakes, dressed up in tutus, and delivered them to people.
  • We didn’t own a vacuum for the entire first year we lived here
  • We made Hutch fix Talia’s bike
  • We all went to the beauty salon and got our nails did
  • There used to be a field at the end of S. Sloce instead of a street
  • Daisy stalked Elise
  • The writer’s strike
  • The town finally got a Muchas
  • Talia went Garage Sale-ing and bought all our furniture in one day
  • Elise deleted her MySpace without informing anyone and ruined Jolie and Talia’s top 12’s forever.
Of course, not everything made the list. Like for example, how The Agency routinely sent me on covert missions to Naples. Or how Talia and I had to save P.T. Moser. Or how Talia and I were ex-agents trying to live a normal life, and had to make up lies to Elise about what we were doing on the weekends. Talia frequently said she was flying to Vegas to see her sister and niece, but really she was flying to Russia for an operation.
Soon, our trio of roommates would be moving on. We were all finally college graduates, and would be starting our professional careers. Elise was moving back home to pursue a career in Frozen Dessert Management, and Talia and I both had a little project up our sleeves.
The next morning we awoke in a groggy state, packed up everything from our house (except for an ironing board, cutting board, and door mat, which we inconveniently got charged for later. “Abandoned Property” they said.)
“Does anyone want to go to breakfast?” I asked.
“I’ve got to get home,” Elise said.
Talia looked at me hesitantly. “Mmm, I guess we could stop for a quick bagel. But then I’ve got to run, too.”
Talia and I drove to the bagel shop, ordered, and sat down.           
“This isn’t a regular breakfast, is it?” Talia asked me.
“No. It’s not.”
“I could read it in your face. What’s up?”
“Director Keller should be here any minute. He’s got news about our new phase.”
In the meantime we enjoyed toasted bagels filled with egg and cheese. I was sipping my OJ when Director Keller came up to us. He was disguised as a busboy. He filled up our water glasses while talking rapidly.
“Plans have changed. I know you thought you two would part ways, but something just opened up. We have a house for you in the next town. If you guys are willing, we want you to go into our covert child ops. Project Christmas.”
“Wait,” Talia said, “I know about Project Christmas. That’s the testing and training of young children to become future agents. Jack Bristle started it in the seventies to identify kids and train them as sleeper agents. Much of the testing is embedded into standardized state tests.”
“It is,” Director Keller nodded. “It sounds like you are knowledgeable. We have two positions open at separate locations. Your guise will be that you are elementary school teachers. We have prospective classes in the third and fourth grades. You’ll teach, but you will secretly be observing for the special sort of people we need. After the first five months, you’ll start training with the ones that qualify.”
            “I’m not sure about this,” I say.
            “Jolie. These are very coveted positions. I thought of the pair of you because I know you want to teach. Now you get the best of both worlds. The work is local. You don’t have to fly off to other countries. You’ll have a normal schedule. And it pays well.”
            Talia looked at me. “We can do this, you know. We’ll be teachers. With a little extra side work.”
            “Okay.” I said, “I’m in.” It was better than trying to really apply to a teaching job.
            “Great,” said Director Keller. “There’s one more thing. The house you’ll be moving into…there’s one other agent who will be joining you. I know the both of you were identified in high school after the results of your PSATs came in, but this other agent, she’s a Project Christmas child. She went through it all.”
            “What’s her name?” Talia asked.
            “Brigette. Her cover is that she works at a bank called Credit Dauphine. Only it’s not really a bank. Well, not all of it. Listen, I gotta go, but here are the keys and I’ll send a map to your phones. More to come later.”
            Then Director Keller was off.
            I looked at Talia, who was dangling a shiny silver key in front of her face. “What’d ya say? Check out the new digs?”
            “Yep. Let’s do this.”
And we were out.

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