[ WP ] You just bought a new house , and the walls can talk .

Jesus H. Christ, this place *stank*. 
 
 Tim had bought this rickety old two-bedroom at the edge of Houston at one hell of a bargain. His plan was to fix this place up and sell it to some nice young couple with too much money and not enough know-how. He ’ d done this for years, and had flipped worse houses, but the reek of this house placed it among the worst he ’ d ever seen. 
 
 “ Well, if you hadn ’ t been touched up five years, you wouldn ’ t look nice either, now would you? ” 
 
 “ What the-? ” Tim swiveled around, which was a feat for his small planet sized body. He was alone in the building, so who the hell said that? A squatter? A jackass neighborhood kid? This place had seen a few floods and a hurricane, maybe they figured they ’ d make it their hideout. 
 But no, he was alone. Shrugging, he got back to work picking debris off the floor. Portly as he was, he liked getting into the down and dirty of remodeling a house. Made it more satisfactory. Saved a lot of money, too. 
 
 “ You ’ re going to sell me, aren ’ t you. ” 
 
 Schizophrenia ran in the family on his mothers side, Tim reasoned. Maybe it was finally hitting him. 
 
 “ I ’ m over here. On the wall, behind the... what used to be a door. ” 
 
 There was indeed a door leaning on the far wall, full of mildew. It looked like it ’ d been green, once upon a dream. Tim stared hard at it. He was going crazy. It was the Texas heat, he knew it. 
 
 On the other hand, what the hell. He lifted the door, grunting all the while, and shoved it behind him. Behind it was a crude, childish stick figure of a family. There was a dog, a dad, a mom, two little boys, and a rectangle meant to be the house. The dad was giving him the finger. 
 
 The dad was giving him the finger? 

