“Here’s a cozy little nest for the lovebirds,” said the real estate agent, opening the door to a small house that had not been remodeled (opened?) since the mid-70s wood paneling craze. The floors were covered in worn, avocado green carpeting. The drapes — avocado green brocade — were pulled tightly across the windows.
“Let’s let the sun shine in, shall we?” said the agent who thought he was making a joke, but the joke was as old as the carpeting.
“Good lord, honey,” whispered Dexter in his new wife’s ear.
“Give it a chance. Maybe it’ll grow on us. Maybe there’s something great here we haven’t seen yet.” Trish was in the middle of a seminar on positive thinking. She was determined to find the good side in everything.
“The kitchen is big and bright,” said the agent, leading them through the dining room. “But it could use some updating.”
An avocado green gas stove stood proudly between two sleek yet greasy knotty pine cabinets.
“You’ll have to get a fridge.”
“How many bathrooms does this house have?” asked Trish.
“Two. One downstairs, one up. Downstairs is a partial, sink and toilet. It’s in this hallway.” The agent turned a corner out of the kitchen into a hallway where there was a pantry and a door leading to the bathroom. He opened the door, stuck in his head, looked around and pulled the door shut.
“You don’t want to go in there,” he said, shaking. “In fact, we don’t want to be in here. Let’s go.” Without another word, he ushered them out of the house and called the police.