George tries to fight the sale of his beloved house.
George watched as the people came in. He frowned as they played with his cupboards and flushed his toilet. Grimacing, he saw them turn all the taps on and off repeatedly.
He noticed them asking a lot of questions of the harried woman with the clipboard and briefcase. She was pretty clueless. Finally he’d had enough!
“Get out of my house!” he roared.
“Did you hear something?” asked one man.
“Oh, Henry! Houses make all kinds of odd noises, even when they’re new,” his wife said softly.
“Well, that’s something I’d want fixed if I buy!”
George was frustrated. He had to stop this! Stomping as hard as he could on the ceiling, he paced the attic.
“Is there somebody here?” inquired a spinster type, clutching her pocketbook desperately.
“No ma’am, I have the house under lock box and have all the keys,” soothed the realtor.
“We’ll see about that!” George fumed.
He tried his best to sink through the ceiling and scare the living daylights out of all those strangers tromping through his beautiful house. It was useless. He huffed noisily and that didn’t work either!
Soon the crowds were gone. He watched through the window as the realtor lady locked up and gathered her signs. A relieved sigh followed her car as it drove out of sight.
Upon hearing noises in the coal cellar, he smiled with delight. Soon there was the thunderous sound of three pairs of sneakers. The attic trap door opened and three heads poked through.
“Grampa George! Guess what?” they chorused.
“What’s up, grand-uns?” he said, appearing slowly.
“Momma’s gonna have twins!” shouted one.
“We don’t have enough bedrooms, ’cuzz they’re both girls,” yelled the second.
“They’re not selling the house now, we’re moving in!” roared the third.
George sighed and vanished.