SPENCER:

It doesn’t make me a bad person, ok? I don’t enjoy making other people suffer. It’s not a hobby of mine. However, when a former teen actress with slightly less star power than the cast of “California Dreams” forces a marriage upon me that I can’t immediately get out of, someone has to pay, people. Someone has to feel my wrath—my lavender-scented, appropriately pillowed, IKEA-purchased wrath. That’s not wrong.

It’s simply necessary.

The money is a completely separate issue. I wasn’t even sure yet if I wanted her money. More than that, I wanted to expedite the process. I wanted my freedom back. I wanted three or four more years alone to mourn the untimely death of my engagement. I wanted my bed, and my space, and my GE Chrome Electric Tea Kettle and matching Chrome Deluxe Induction Cooker. These are things that I needed in order to survive.

Anyway, she’d never figure it out. It’s not like she was the brightest bulb in the pack. I doubt she was even up to reading chapter books, let alone her legal rights.

But I had to admit, it was strange the way she’d saunter around the living room as if she were trying to catch me in the middle of something. And sometimes when I’d walk by her in the hallway, I swear I could hear her mutter random things about witches and spells.

Very strange behavior, indeed.

And it only added to my theory that at some point in her life she had serially murdered people. Possibly witches.

“Spencer, what did you do with my coffee?” she asked as she knocked on my open bedroom door.

Was she referring to that shit she kept on the counter that was the consistency of dead ants?

“I threw it away.”

“You threw it away?”

“I…” I said, pointing to myself, “threw…it…away. Got it?”

“Why would you do that? Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a good grind on fair-trade, shade-grown coffee? I have this stuff shipped in from Seattle weekly!”

“It just goes to show how little you actually know about coffee, Davies. Because ground coffee is only at its best for a few hours. That’s why I have a grinder that I bought from Italy, so I could grind my own beans every morning and enjoy the finest brew possible. I suggest you do the same and stop spending your money on shit I wouldn’t serve to a compost bin. Speaking of which, I started one. So from now on make sure you throw your banana peels in the pink bin under the sink so we can try to save this planet.”