After taking a phone call from his best friend, last Saturday afternoon, local man, Kevin Fennerlick, was observed by his wife Cheryl, pacing, roaming and at times, randomly wandering around the house while he engaged in what appeared to be a deep conversation about beer, girls and old times. “He took the call around one thirty and I hoped he would just stand there like a normal person and talk, but then he started walking around like he was lost,” said his wife, “It was like he was one of those wind-up toys. I kept thinking, he’s going to walk into a wall or something.”
Kevin’s random journey throughout the house started in the kitchen, with it ultimately finishing in the garage amid a shouted flurry of expletives used to describe certain good times, long since passed.
“I have no idea what Kevin and Gary were talking about. I think they were reliving their old college days or something. Kevin uses a lot of salty language when he talks to Gary. Every sentence has to end with fuck, fucking shit, or fuck yeah. Still, I don’t get why he can’t just scream the F word into his phone while sitting down. I was watching House Hunters International and the pacing was really distracting.”
After being shooed from the living room Kevin reportedly walked into the bedroom where he closed the bedroom door, then re-opened it thirty seconds later and continued to mosey about the house like a lost kid at a department store. “I think he sat on the bed for like fifteen seconds before going into the bathroom.”
The sounds of the faucet being turned on and off and the shower door being rolled along its soap scum covered tracks, could be heard in the living room, prompting Cheryl to raise the volume on the TV. “What the hell was he doing in there? I mean, I’m trying to see if this young couple is going to like house number two, the one with the big backyard, but far from the city center and all I can hear is the shower door rattling around.” Kevin left the bathroom moments later and was seen heading towards the guest bedroom.
It can’t be known for sure what happened in the guest bedroom, but speculation is that Kevin walked around in a random pattern, occasionally opening and closing the vertical blinds, sitting and bouncing on the exercise ball and uttering words like, fuck, fucking shit and fuck yeah.
“Maybe ten minutes later he comes back out and has the nerve to stop right in front of the TV and tell me he was almost done. I couldn’t tell whether house number three had the extra bedroom they were looking for or if it was located close to a metro stop. Thankfully he wandered into the garage after that.”
Kevin spent at least another five minutes in the garage, but nobody can say for sure whether he stood in one place or whether he endlessly meandered about the oil stained concrete floor. “I heard his table saw go on at one point. I don’t get why he can’t just stay still. They picked house number one in case you were wondering. It’s far from the city center, but has the pool they were looking for.”
After the phone call Kevin walked back into the house and plopped down on the couch for the rest of the day.