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One.

Two..

Three…

Same number of steps down as there was up this morning. Digging through the three pockets of my purse for my one set of apartment keys in the two steps to the door, I find three cap less pens, two lip balms, and one finished book (“Lost in a Good Book” by Jasper Fforde). My fingers find the key ring and sort through the three keys (two for the door and one for the mailbox upstairs) for the largest key without looking and grant myself access to the Kingdom of Chaos, the Epicenter of Emotion, home.

“I’m home.” I utter aloud to the one fridge, two couches and three different floorings, as I toss the mail on the counter (three bills, two pizza place flyers, one credit card offer – guaranteed approval, can’t beat that). “Not that it matters.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?” the unicorn (a one Professor Peacock to be exact), questioned from the kitchen, topping off his cup with two-day old coffee, stirring in three heaping sugars. He shook his mane out of his eyes and leaned on the kitchen door frame. “I take it your day wasn’t all rainbows and daisies?”

“Not even clouds and weeds.” I sighed as I firstly removed one shoe, then secondly the other, and thirdly found I had stepped in gum somewhere outside. The previously stuck to my sole was now currently stuck to my digits. Heaving another sigh, I turned to the bathroom finding I needed to step over one penguin then shoo two more from the sink before I could use the hand soap (three times the cleaning power!)

“Why are you guys always underfoot?”

“Disco Inferno!”

“Does that mean there is no hot water left?”

“Burn the mother down!”

“We talked about that, fire plus you three means we can’t have nice things”

“Electric boogie goo!”

“Honestly, your feathers look outstanding today; there is no need to use the curling iron.”

I turned off the faucet, stepped backwards onto one tail, stumbled twice to the right, and narrowly avoided the tub with three bottles of bubble bath emptied into the bottom. “Seriously… I do not need this today.”

The three penguins waddled in front of me, two looked to their yellow feet in shame, one patted my leg with a flipper. “Our bad.”

“You got that right” I wrestled the towel away from a penguin and dried my hands, almost getting a horn to the forehead as I exited the bathroom. “Do you want to talk about it?” The unicorn probed and sipped long from his cup (one shade of yellow with three words -HANG IN THERE- in two shades of purple). “I read in Woman’s Day magazine that talking about your feelings helps in stressful situations.”

“Where did you get a Woman’s Day magazine?” I asked, pushing my way past his bulk into the kitchen. “What do we have for dinner?” I blocked the unicorn’s electric purple eyed stare by opening and leaning down into the fridge. There was one bottle of Ketchup, two apple ales and three pizza lunchables. “For your information,” said the unicorn, circling around the kitchen through the living room, “The gryphons are kleptos, they root through the neighbor’s garbage for treasure most nights.”

I closed the fridge door and looked past the unicorn’s rear into the Livingroom and the lounging masses on the mismatched couches. “Found a Geico add that must have been a job offer because I now have a nametag! I can be called Cliff if I so choose!” Seamus informed us from his spot in from of the TV. Seamus was lying on his back, watching Judge Judy from an upside-down angle (three pillows under his butt, two wings folded over his belly and one pair of cardboard glasses sitting crooked on his beak). The volume to the court proceedings were muted, Seamus playing brains yelling out “Objection! The dog should get the house and the goldfish should get the car, shared custody of the Pez dispensers, that’s obvious! What say you Mycroft?”

Mycroft was facing the AC, two wings extended as if flying, one paw hovering above the couch arm, three gold stars stuck to his neck feathers. “You do not disturb a four-star General in the middle of a flight! But I would remind you, Seamus, that there is no goldfish involved in this dispute. Lady Judy is deciding the fate of Mister Mustard; the poor fellow was wrongly accused of flinging a candlestick at Mrs. White that tramp.”

Seamus right sided himself so fast he knocked his cardboard glasses askew “Do not exaggerate your already bloated ego you birdbrained tabby! You only have three stars.” (two skeptical eyes, one accusing beak, three swishes of his tail).

Mycroft turned off the AC and faced Seamus. Seamus readjusted his cardboard glasses and squinted at Mycroft. Judge Judy went to commercial.

I sighed, turning to the cupboards above the sink (one jar of alfredo sauce, two bags of quinoa, three cups of bowtie pasta). The unicorn returned to the coffee pot to refill his cup of cold coffee as havoc erupted in the next room. “So, what’s troubling you today?” he asked, momentarily looking behind him at the penguins scooting to the living room to watch the goings on. I glanced over the counter to see three penguins bouncing in the broken recliner egging on the two gryphons tangled together on the floor in one mess of feathers and fur.

“Fight!”

“Argument!”

“First rule of fight club… don’t talk about fight club!”

I grabbed out three pots, filled two with water, one with alfredo sauce and set them to heat on the stove. “I’m just feeling out of sorts. You know, things seem to be at a standstill, kinda stagnant, not sure if I’m in the right place.” I leaned against the counter with my elbows and glanced at the Unicorn (a one Professor Peacock to be exact) standing by the coffee pot. He pushed the partial box of bowtie pasta towards me. “In what way? Job? Apartment? Relationships? Life?” I sighed and reached for the box (one step to the stove, two shakes of the box to empty it of the three cups of bowties) just as there was a horrendous crash from the Livingroom followed by a penguin squawking “GIVE HIM THE CHAIR!”

I pulled a wooden spoon out of the dish drainer, thwacked it once on the counter then pointed it threateningly at two gryphons and three penguins.

“If I see even one chair without all four of its feet on the floor, then you five will find yourselves ignored for a month!”

Silence ensued. The penguins huddled, hugging in the broken recliner with looks of shock on their beaks. The gryphons sat on their haunches; Mycroft (now missing two additional star stickers) was looking up at the ceiling in an I-don’t-know-what-your-talking-about manner. Seamus (the left ear piece of his cardboard glasses bent down and to the right towards his beak) stuck his tongue out at Mycroft, then remembering they were getting yelled at, shot a look at me and smiled.

“Please.” I said with a sigh, holding the wooden spoon up like a scepter and surveying the strange subjects of my living room. “Can we have one night where no one needs the first aid kit before dinner?”

One of the Penguins raised a flipper and asked “After?”

“No, we will have a quiet night if it kills you.”

A second penguin tilted his head and asked “Tomorrow?”

“I would prefer if you wouldn’t.”

A third looked to the left then to the right then muttered “Plausible alibis.”

“I do believe we botched that standby when she found the squirrel in the bedroom.” Mycroft muttered “And I would like the record to show that I was against hiding the critter in the underwear drawer.”

Seamus ruffled his wings and bitterly replied, “It was my squirrel and I don’t appreciate having to let it go when it took so long to catch it in the first place. Mycroft told me if I caught it I could keep it. And I did. Then the unicorn snitches on us and I am forced to relinquish my fuzzy friend. Most upsetting and I never got my apology.”

I sighed and tapped the wooded spoon on the counter (one, two, three). “Seamus, I never got my apology either. Your rabid “friend” chewed three pairs of socks, two underoos and peed on my favorite bra! Not to mention when I opened the drawer it came at my face and I almost needed stiches, plus I fell into the closet and broke the hamper.”

Seamus lowered his feathered head onto Mycroft’s shoulder and let out a phony sob. “I was going to name him Squire.”

The penguins hopped off the recliner and waddled over to Seamus, patting him with their flippers.

“Sorrowful.”

“Say Sorry.”

“Rabid.”

“There was no way I was going to let you keep a squirrel! You can’t even sit through a full episode of Foamy the Squirrel without getting bored.” I stated as I stepped over the penguins and flopped onto the furthest couch. Mycroft shouldered Seamus away and jumped onto the opposite couch. “Well if it wasn’t for that meddling unicorn things would be more fun around here, less structured and all that non sense. Room to really live if you know what I mean”

The unicorn huffed, looking into the Livingroom from over the kitchen counter, “That comment is hurtful Mycroft.”

I sighed. A penguin made his waddley way slowly over to me and grabbed the wooden spoon; grinning triumphantly he turned and made to poke Seamus in the behind with it.

“If it wasn’t for Professor Peacock, I’m pretty sure your miscreants would be in jail and I would be in the nut house, crazy mad like chronic rabies.” I leaned forward snatching the wooden spoon back and bopping the penguin on the head. He theatrically squawked, throwing himself to the carpet beside Seamus. Seamus opened his beak in a large, faked yawn, and stretched a paw out, plopping it on top the penguin’s head. Another squawk from the downed one, cries of war from the two others, a count to three from me.

“mmmmrrrrfffff!!!”

“Treacherous turkey tiger!!”

“Remember the Alamo!!”

“ONE...TWO…THREE…THAT’S IT NO TV FOR A WEEK!”

Silence ensued. Five beaks and ten eyes turned towards me. “I object!” Seamus hollered. “That is cruel and unusual punishment!” Mycroft shook his head. “Not that unusual, remember she did the same last month during the MacGyver marathon. Never found out what he made from the Tupperware container, spork, 2 inches of shoelace and blade of grass either.”

“Set her adrift! I vote her off the island. I’m on strike. We can’t endure this treatment!” Seamus yelled, rearing up on his back paws and beat his wings bringing up a wind and blowing the junk mail off the coffee table.

The unicorn shook his mane and stomped a hoof to gain the proverbial speaking stick “Mind your Ps and Qs”

“Mind our Manners?” questioned Mycroft. Seamus stood up with his paws on the kitchen counter, his beak bopping the unicorn’s horn “We haven’t been anything but angels. She’s the one making threats that are against the Geneva Convention. Besides, we aren’t the ones with behavioral issues that would be the well-dressed ducks from the restroom.”

The penguins regrouped and puffed up, clearly offended.

“Ducks??”

“Insults!!”

“FINISH HIM!!”

“Pasta and quinoa!” Yelled the unicorn, “Check the stovetop!”

I scrambled to my feet and separated the species as I took the few steps into the kitchen, ducking under the unicorn’s neck to avoid his horn. The pots were starting to bubble over, the starchy water leaving residue around the burners already. I sighed heavily, turning the burners off and moving the sauce to the unused, cool burner, and draining the pasta, and setting the quinoa on a potholder to the side.

The apartment was quiet.

I turned back to the living room and saw two gryphons staring over the counter. I looked to the floor and saw three penguins standing at my feet. I looked at the one unicorn, “Dinners ready I guess.”

There was a flurry of feathers, fur and activity. The penguins attacked the lower cupboards and extracted seven plates, holding them up as high as they could for me to grab them. The gryphons went to the silverware drawer and picked out seven forks and seven spoons (all mismatched). The unicorn poured cold coffee into seven different mugs. I spooned the one pot wonder concoction (one jar of alfredo sauce, two bags of quinoa, three cups of bowtie pasta) onto the plates one by one, passing them to each of my assorted roommates in turn. Without speaking (a silence reserved for meal times alone) the gryphons settled on the couches with their plates (one gryphon per couch). One penguin hopped into the broken recliner then waited as the other two passed up the plates, then lent a flipper till all three were happily seated and eating. The unicorn nosed a chair away from the kitchen table and set his plate on the only placemat, grabbing a napkin as well. I sighed as I ran water into the three pots and left them to soak in the sink. I grabbed a fork, spoon and my plate, stepped around the unicorn and saw Seamus move over to allow me to sit beside him.

“Thank you, Seamus.” I said as I sat down, sliding forward to allow myself the use of the coffee table.

Silence, or at least as much silence as I was ever going to achieve with this mismatched group, settled in the room. “Seamus, where did your glasses go?” Mycroft quizzed as he chased a bowtie around his plate. Seamus pawed the bridge of his beak. “Well rats and cats, I’m as blind as a bat!”

Anticipating the quiet to not stay as quiet for much longer, I pushed my one plate and two utensils further onto the coffee table and took three quick swigs of cold coffee. “It’s not that big of a deal, they were just cardboard. We can make you another…”

Statement interrupted.

Mycroft was looking at Seamus

Seamus stared slack beaked at the broken recliner where one penguin was flinging spoonful’s of dinner at two more penguins wearing the cardboard glasses with their beaks through the eyeholes. I started looking for a perfect spot to hang three mounted penguin heads.

I stood up so fast my knees hit the edge of my plate, throwing what was left of dinner to the carpet.

“Enough!!”

Silence

Three penguins, two griffins and one unicorn stared in surprise.

“I can’t take another evening like this! Why does my life always have to be chaos?”

I took the one turn on my heel to the hallway, two steps into the bedroom, and three attempts to slam the door before realizing that a little yellow barrel was blocking it, and sat heavily on the bed with my head in my hands.

A moment alone to breathe.

A knock at the door.

A moment alone I wasn’t going to get.

“Would you like to talk?” The unicorn asked, his nose the only thing visible around the partially closed door.

I sighed (how many times have I done that tonight?) “They laid another group off today, and still have the balls to tell us that nothing is wrong. There’s only five of us left on the floor taking calls. IF the ship is sinking then why won’t they just tell us to be prepared so we have a backup plan?”

The unicorn pushed the door open and kicked the barrel further into the room. “I see the monkeys got out again. Maybe they are afraid that if they tell you that the ship as you call it is sinking that you will leave before their use for you has expired and they will be under water quicker.”

I picked a red plastic monkey off the comforter and tossed it to the pillow, smiling a little when it righted itself, joined two others on the pillow, and started jumping. “It just feels like a bad business practice to keep your employees in the dark about something that can affect their financial wellbeing. “

“Do you feel like you will be out of a job soon?”

“Yes!”

“Have you started looking elsewhere?”

“Of course.”

“And you do realize that there is that thing called unemployment. If you quit before they decide what their future holds then you won’t be able to take advantage of that helping hand if you don’t have another job before its necessary.”

“I’ve never needed to use it before but yeah I know.”

“Then you are being proactive about your situation and I have faith that it will work out for the best.” The unicorn stood on his back legs as a sign of victory and boxed his front hooves as much as he could in the cramped space.

“That may be true but I still feel like nothing is going my way.” A troop of plastic monkeys had made their way across the bed, and by linking their half circle arms, had proceeded to climb my shirt sleeve. I shook my arm, scattering the monkeys across the bed again to regroup. “And coming home to those honyocks always destroying everything and picking fights with each other is putting me on the edge of insanity!”

“Pardon my bluntness but I would have thought you went over a long while ago. You do reside with two gryphons, three penguins, one barrel of monkeys, and myself. And I am a Unicorn.”

“I don’t have to worry about you or the monkeys though.” I said, “You aren’t the reason I’m not getting my security deposit back, and the monkeys are easy to pop back in the barrel if they get out of hand.”

I reached under the corner of the bed and pulled out three socks, two hair ties and one soda bottle before getting a hand on the yellow barrel and bringing it up topside.

Professor Peacock started to drone on about how we may find a barrel large enough for the penguins but how it may be difficult to find two for the gryphons, then going further with how it may be even more difficult to convince them to climb in.

I half listened, focusing instead on capturing the monkeys jumping on the bed, their non-toxic plastic forms making little ponk noises when they hit the bottom of the barrel.

“You’re not listening, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“Not really.”

“That’s rather rude.”

“That is true”

“You don’t care, do you?”

“Not at this moment no.”

“Why are you tormenting the monkeys?”

“They have been told numerous times. No more monkeys jumping on the bed.”

“They are monkeys. That’s what they do.”

“They are also known to hide up in trees with stolen hats.”

“I remember that cautionary tale. “

The unicorn watched as I ponked the last of the moneys in the barrel, push the lid down, and set the barrel on the bedside table. I leaned back on my elbows and sighed (eleventh time I think). “I don’t know what I’m going to do about them.”

“but you already put them in the barrel. What more could you do with them?”

I grinned (the first time tonight). “I mean about Seamus, Mycroft and the idiot turkeys.””

“Penguins.”

I rolled my eyes, and when they landed, noticed the lid to the monkeys slowly rotating. “Whatever. I can’t take them out in public and can’t leave them home alone.”

From beyond the bedroom came one very wet sound, three squawks and two insistent shushes.

“Jeepers. They don’t even try to behave when I am home.”

I stood with a sigh (twelfth time), the unicorn moved horn first to the corner to allow me safe passage to the hallway, the barrel’s lid pushed off and monkeys erupted forth onto the bed, jumping with glee.

I rounded the immediate left corner in two steps and started to let loose with an almighty roar a tirade all too familiar to my housemates but abruptly stopped before the first declaration of beheadings could leave my voice box.

One penguin held a dustpan, the second was using a spoon to move macaroni and quinoa in alfredo sauce from the carpet to the dustpan, the third was using a spray cleaner and paper towels to wipe dinner off the broken recliner.

I stared at this unusual visual with what must have looked like an expression of malice to come.

“No troubles!” Spoon penguin nodded and bowed.

“No stains!” Spray penguin scrubbed harder.

“MERCY!!” Dustpan penguin left his post to fling himself at my ankles narrowly missing my toes with his beak as he tried to kiss my feet.

“Thank you for cleaning up.” I said to the three with a smile that I hoped looked genuine. There was a flurry of activity in the kitchen and hushed talking, but I couldn’t see anything definite from over the counter. I patted each of the three penguins on their noggins, stepped back out to the small hallway (dragging one penguin still attached to my ankle by his flippers squawking MERCY between beak kisses) and took two more steps to the kitchen doorway.

“Holy Hoover Damn! What… How…UGH?!?!?”

There was at least an inch of water covering the kitchen floor. There were paper towels soaked in piles both on and off their cardboard tubes. All the hand and bath towels were on the floor with the gryphons standing on them in attempts to skate dry the floor.

“In our defense, we may be getting the mopping and the dishes done all in one go.” Seamus stated while sliding on squishy towels, not collecting water but instead just pushing it from one side of the kitchen to the other.

“Gryphon paws do not have the gripping power that is needed to handle large pots of water when soap is applied. That is a fact proven here today.” Mycroft muttered giving the sink the stink eye. I followed his gaze.

There was no sink.

Only suds.

You never realize how many bubbles one bottle of dish soap contains till they are released.

I picked up the penguin at my feet and put him on the counter. “Well, lets get to it.” I started to roll up my sleeves then stopped, took my sweatshirt off and tossed it onto the floor. “Hey Professor, can you bring out the laundry please?” I looked to the doorway and saw the other two penguins staring at the bubbles in awe. “Don’t just stand there, go give him a hand, or … flipper.”

Again, a flurry of flippers, fur and horse feathers consumed the small apartment while the hampers were emptied from the bedroom and bathroom onto the kitchen floor.

The Professor looked approvingly over the kitchen counter from the living room, “Necessity is the mother of invention.”

“I thought your mother’s name was Karen?” Seamus quizzed me, pausing his mopping with a pair of heavy socks on his front paws.

“If her name is Necessity then we have been addressing the Mother’s Day cards wrong for many years. It’s sad when a child doesn’t know their own mother’s name.”

The Unicorn rolled his eyes “You ninny. It’s a saying that means a need or problem encourages creative efforts to meet the need or solve the problem. It’s from a dialogue called Republic by the Greek philosopher Plato.”

Two penguins scooted by in one pair of jeans.

“Smarty pants.”

“Et tu Brute?”

“That was Shakespeare.” Mycroft said with a snobbish jab at the penguin in the left pant leg.

The third penguin popped up from amidst the suds in the sink

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

Silence

We all looked astonished at the penguin who was now using the bottle scrubber to brush his teeth.

“Now that was actually Ian Maclaren AKA Rev Dr John Watson, and it has been misattributed as being Plato. Well said though, always relevant.” The unicorn said favorably with a nod.

The Kitchen clean up resumed with those words sitting on our synapses. Before long the water was sopped up, dishes washed and laid to dry in the rack on the counter, and the laundry was tossed wet into the tub for me to deal with in the morning.

With the night growing late, my headaches reclaimed their preferred seats in the living room.

I picked up my mug of cold coffee and took a sip. “Stupid question,” I started.

“No such thing as a stupid question!” Mycroft interjected.

Seamus shook his head harshly from side to side, skewing his specs. “I beg to argue that point. Ask a one-legged man if he has a step stool. He may think you a bit foolish.”

“I stand corrected.” Mycroft said with a nod to his brother.

“You sit corrected. You’re sitting after all Mycroft. Are you picking up what I’m putting down old chum?” Seamus asked with a snobbish inflection. A pillow smacked him in the beak.

“No, but you seem to be catching what I’m throwing.” Mycroft remarked with another pillow in paw to sling in his baffled brother’s direction.

Professor Peacock dropped a dozen spoons (more like seven spoons, five forks) disrupting the exchange and gaining the attention of two gryphons, three penguins and one me.

Silence.

“SO! What’s your question?”

I hoisted myself up to sit on the countertop overlooking the living room and surveyed the crowd before me. “What if I can’t find a job quick? What if we can’t keep the apartment?”

Seamus shrugged his winged shoulders and adjusted his soggy spectacles, “A change of scenery would be ideal. The neighborhood is not as posh as the brochures made it out to be.”

“I have always wanted to see Alaska.” Mycroft offered.

The penguins started joyfully bouncing on the broken recliner.

“Ideal!”

“snotsicles!”

“Copulating Polar bears have the right of way!”

I pushed the back of the recliner with my foot, jostling the occupants. “I don’t think that is included in artic road rules. Although I could be wrong, I’ve never driven in Alaska.”

Three seconds of silence as two penguins stared at one penguin.

“Cite sources!”

“We CAN handle the truth!”

With everyone’s eyes on him, the penguin put his flippers up and squawked “Kim!” as if the name was explanation enough.

Seamus picked up the nearest National Enquirer, “What page is she on? Wasn’t she cast as an extra on Channel 7 news?”

Professor Peacock shook his mane and stomped back into the kitchen to refill his cold coffee. “Was she being dragged away in cuffs? She should have been arrested for giving out fake facts like that.”

“I don’t care if its true or not, we are not moving to Alaska on a whim.” I raised my voice and my hands to gain the attention of my peers.

The penguins started squawking angrily.

“Not fair!”

“Insensitive to our needs!”

“Sad Panda!”

The gryphons started flapping their wings and scratching the couches.

“There is no reasoning with you!” Seamus shouted as he tugged at the curtains, bending the rod in the middle almost to the point of breaking.

Mycroft threw the pillows and cushions to the floor “ATTICA, ATTICA!!”

“I’m just saying that we should look into all our options.” I said, thinking that some logic would soothe the now savage beasts.

“And what why can’t Alaska be an option?” Seamus glowered over his shoulder at me.

I caved, “I didn’t say it couldn’t be an option, just asked that we not jump the gun. Please!”

The Penguins looked questioningly at each other.

“Guns?”

“Arm bears!”

“Can’t arm. Got Flippers.”

“There is no way you three are getting firearms. I shouldn’t even allow you guys to use the faucet without supervision.” I slid off the counter and picked up my phone from the coffee table. Time was getting away from me. “Alright you guys, it’s getting late. Can I please have some quiet time. I have applications to finish.

One unicorn brought me a cup of cold coffee, two gryphons turned the Tv back on (muted) and settled on their separate couches. Three penguins arranged the pillows strewn on the floor.

I cleared a spot at the kitchen table and powered on the laptop. As I waited for the browser to load, Professor Peacock approached and hovered.

“Do you feel better about the situation?”

“Not completely, but Ill take it one day at a time.”

“Sounds like a good game plan.” He nodded his head, backed up and joined the others in the Livingroom.

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One.

Two..

Three…

Same number of steps down as there was up this morning. Digging through the three pockets of my purse for my one set of apartment keys in the two steps to the door, I find three cap less pens, two lip balms, and one finished book (“Lost in a Good Book” by Jasper Fforde). My fingers find the key ring and sort through the three keys (two for the door and one for the mailbox upstairs) for the largest key without looking and grant myself access to the Kingdom of Chaos, the Epicenter of Emotion, home.

“I’m home.” I utter aloud to the one fridge, two couches and three different floorings, as I toss the mail on the counter (three bills, two pizza place flyers, one credit card offer – guaranteed approval, can’t beat that). “Not that it matters.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?” the unicorn (a one Professor Peacock to be exact), questioned from the kitchen, topping off his cup with two-day old coffee, stirring in three heaping sugars. He shook his mane out of his eyes and leaned on the kitchen door frame. “I take it your day wasn’t all rainbows and daisies?”

“Not even clouds and weeds.” I sighed as I firstly removed one shoe, then secondly the other, and thirdly found I had stepped in gum somewhere outside. The previously stuck to my sole was now currently stuck to my digits. Heaving another sigh, I turned to the bathroom finding I needed to step over one penguin then shoo two more from the sink before I could use the hand soap (three times the cleaning power!)

“Why are you guys always underfoot?”

“Disco Inferno!”

“Does that mean there is no hot water left?”

“Burn the mother down!”

“We talked about that, fire plus you three means we can’t have nice things”

“Electric boogie goo!”

“Honestly, your feathers look outstanding today; there is no need to use the curling iron.”

I turned off the faucet, stepped backwards onto one tail, stumbled twice to the right, and narrowly avoided the tub with three bottles of bubble bath emptied into the bottom. “Seriously… I do not need this today.”

The three penguins waddled in front of me, two looked to their yellow feet in shame, one patted my leg with a flipper. “Our bad.”

“You got that right” I wrestled the towel away from a penguin and dried my hands, almost getting a horn to the forehead as I exited the bathroom. “Do you want to talk about it?” The unicorn probed and sipped long from his cup (one shade of yellow with three words -HANG IN THERE- in two shades of purple). “I read in Woman’s Day magazine that talking about your feelings helps in stressful situations.”

“Where did you get a Woman’s Day magazine?” I asked, pushing my way past his bulk into the kitchen. “What do we have for dinner?” I blocked the unicorn’s electric purple eyed stare by opening and leaning down into the fridge. There was one bottle of Ketchup, two apple ales and three pizza lunchables. “For your information,” said the unicorn, circling around the kitchen through the living room, “The gryphons are kleptos, they root through the neighbor’s garbage for treasure most nights.”

I closed the fridge door and looked past the unicorn’s rear into the Livingroom and the lounging masses on the mismatched couches. “Found a Geico add that must have been a job offer because I now have a nametag! I can be called Cliff if I so choose!” Seamus informed us from his spot in from of the TV. Seamus was lying on his back, watching Judge Judy from an upside-down angle (three pillows under his butt, two wings folded over his belly and one pair of cardboard glasses sitting crooked on his beak). The volume to the court proceedings were muted, Seamus playing brains yelling out “Objection! The dog should get the house and the goldfish should get the car, shared custody of the Pez dispensers, that’s obvious! What say you Mycroft?”

Mycroft was facing the AC, two wings extended as if flying, one paw hovering above the couch arm, three gold stars stuck to his neck feathers. “You do not disturb a four-star General in the middle of a flight! But I would remind you, Seamus, that there is no goldfish involved in this dispute. Lady Judy is deciding the fate of Mister Mustard; the poor fellow was wrongly accused of flinging a candlestick at Mrs. White that tramp.”

Seamus right sided himself so fast he knocked his cardboard glasses askew “Do not exaggerate your already bloated ego you birdbrained tabby! You only have three stars.” (two skeptical eyes, one accusing beak, three swishes of his tail).

Mycroft turned off the AC and faced Seamus. Seamus readjusted his cardboard glasses and squinted at Mycroft. Judge Judy went to commercial.

I sighed, turning to the cupboards above the sink (one jar of alfredo sauce, two bags of quinoa, three cups of bowtie pasta). The unicorn returned to the coffee pot to refill his cup of cold coffee as havoc erupted in the next room. “So, what’s troubling you today?” he asked, momentarily looking behind him at the penguins scooting to the living room to watch the goings on. I glanced over the counter to see three penguins bouncing in the broken recliner egging on the two gryphons tangled together on the floor in one mess of feathers and fur.

“Fight!”

“Argument!”

“First rule of fight club… don’t talk about fight club!”

I grabbed out three pots, filled two with water, one with alfredo sauce and set them to heat on the stove. “I’m just feeling out of sorts. You know, things seem to be at a standstill, kinda stagnant, not sure if I’m in the right place.” I leaned against the counter with my elbows and glanced at the Unicorn (a one Professor Peacock to be exact) standing by the coffee pot. He pushed the partial box of bowtie pasta towards me. “In what way? Job? Apartment? Relationships? Life?” I sighed and reached for the box (one step to the stove, two shakes of the box to empty it of the three cups of bowties) just as there was a horrendous crash from the Livingroom followed by a penguin squawking “GIVE HIM THE CHAIR!”

I pulled a wooden spoon out of the dish drainer, thwacked it once on the counter then pointed it threateningly at two gryphons and three penguins.

“If I see even one chair without all four of its feet on the floor, then you five will find yourselves ignored for a month!”

Silence ensued. The penguins huddled, hugging in the broken recliner with looks of shock on their beaks. The gryphons sat on their haunches; Mycroft (now missing two additional star stickers) was looking up at the ceiling in an I-don’t-know-what-your-talking-about manner. Seamus (the left ear piece of his cardboard glasses bent down and to the right towards his beak) stuck his tongue out at Mycroft, then remembering they were getting yelled at, shot a look at me and smiled.

“Please.” I said with a sigh, holding the wooden spoon up like a scepter and surveying the strange subjects of my living room. “Can we have one night where no one needs the first aid kit before dinner?”

One of the Penguins raised a flipper and asked “After?”

“No, we will have a quiet night if it kills you.”

A second penguin tilted his head and asked “Tomorrow?”

“I would prefer if you wouldn’t.”

A third looked to the left then to the right then muttered “Plausible alibis.”

“I do believe we botched that standby when she found the squirrel in the bedroom.” Mycroft muttered “And I would like the record to show that I was against hiding the critter in the underwear drawer.”

Seamus ruffled his wings and bitterly replied, “It was my squirrel and I don’t appreciate having to let it go when it took so long to catch it in the first place. Mycroft told me if I caught it I could keep it. And I did. Then the unicorn snitches on us and I am forced to relinquish my fuzzy friend. Most upsetting and I never got my apology.”

I sighed and tapped the wooded spoon on the counter (one, two, three). “Seamus, I never got my apology either. Your rabid “friend” chewed three pairs of socks, two underoos and peed on my favorite bra! Not to mention when I opened the drawer it came at my face and I almost needed stiches, plus I fell into the closet and broke the hamper.”

Seamus lowered his feathered head onto Mycroft’s shoulder and let out a phony sob. “I was going to name him Squire.”

The penguins hopped off the recliner and waddled over to Seamus, patting him with their flippers.

“Sorrowful.”

“Say Sorry.”

“Rabid.”

“There was no way I was going to let you keep a squirrel! You can’t even sit through a full episode of Foamy the Squirrel without getting bored.” I stated as I stepped over the penguins and flopped onto the furthest couch. Mycroft shouldered Seamus away and jumped onto the opposite couch. “Well if it wasn’t for that meddling unicorn things would be more fun around here, less structured and all that non sense. Room to really live if you know what I mean”

The unicorn huffed, looking into the Livingroom from over the kitchen counter, “That comment is hurtful Mycroft.”

I sighed. A penguin made his waddley way slowly over to me and grabbed the wooden spoon; grinning triumphantly he turned and made to poke Seamus in the behind with it.

“If it wasn’t for Professor Peacock, I’m pretty sure your miscreants would be in jail and I would be in the nut house, crazy mad like chronic rabies.” I leaned forward snatching the wooden spoon back and bopping the penguin on the head. He theatrically squawked, throwing himself to the carpet beside Seamus. Seamus opened his beak in a large, faked yawn, and stretched a paw out, plopping it on top the penguin’s head. Another squawk from the downed one, cries of war from the two others, a count to three from me.

“mmmmrrrrfffff!!!”

“Treacherous turkey tiger!!”

“Remember the Alamo!!”

“ONE...TWO…THREE…THAT’S IT NO TV FOR A WEEK!”

Silence ensued. Five beaks and ten eyes turned towards me. “I object!” Seamus hollered. “That is cruel and unusual punishment!” Mycroft shook his head. “Not that unusual, remember she did the same last month during the MacGyver marathon. Never found out what he made from the Tupperware container, spork, 2 inches of shoelace and blade of grass either.”

“Set her adrift! I vote her off the island. I’m on strike. We can’t endure this treatment!” Seamus yelled, rearing up on his back paws and beat his wings bringing up a wind and blowing the junk mail off the coffee table.

The unicorn shook his mane and stomped a hoof to gain the proverbial speaking stick “Mind your Ps and Qs”

“Mind our Manners?” questioned Mycroft. Seamus stood up with his paws on the kitchen counter, his beak bopping the unicorn’s horn “We haven’t been anything but angels. She’s the one making threats that are against the Geneva Convention. Besides, we aren’t the ones with behavioral issues that would be the well-dressed ducks from the restroom.”

The penguins regrouped and puffed up, clearly offended.

“Ducks??”

“Insults!!”

“FINISH HIM!!”

“Pasta and quinoa!” Yelled the unicorn, “Check the stovetop!”

I scrambled to my feet and separated the species as I took the few steps into the kitchen, ducking under the unicorn’s neck to avoid his horn. The pots were starting to bubble over, the starchy water leaving residue around the burners already. I sighed heavily, turning the burners off and moving the sauce to the unused, cool burner, and draining the pasta, and setting the quinoa on a potholder to the side.

The apartment was quiet.

I turned back to the living room and saw two gryphons staring over the counter. I looked to the floor and saw three penguins standing at my feet. I looked at the one unicorn, “Dinners ready I guess.”

There was a flurry of feathers, fur and activity. The penguins attacked the lower cupboards and extracted seven plates, holding them up as high as they could for me to grab them. The gryphons went to the silverware drawer and picked out seven forks and seven spoons (all mismatched). The unicorn poured cold coffee into seven different mugs. I spooned the one pot wonder concoction (one jar of alfredo sauce, two bags of quinoa, three cups of bowtie pasta) onto the plates one by one, passing them to each of my assorted roommates in turn. Without speaking (a silence reserved for meal times alone) the gryphons settled on the couches with their plates (one gryphon per couch). One penguin hopped into the broken recliner then waited as the other two passed up the plates, then lent a flipper till all three were happily seated and eating. The unicorn nosed a chair away from the kitchen table and set his plate on the only placemat, grabbing a napkin as well. I sighed as I ran water into the three pots and left them to soak in the sink. I grabbed a fork, spoon and my plate, stepped around the unicorn and saw Seamus move over to allow me to sit beside him.

“Thank you, Seamus.” I said as I sat down, sliding forward to allow myself the use of the coffee table.

Silence, or at least as much silence as I was ever going to achieve with this mismatched group, settled in the room. “Seamus, where did your glasses go?” Mycroft quizzed as he chased a bowtie around his plate. Seamus pawed the bridge of his beak. “Well rats and cats, I’m as blind as a bat!”

Anticipating the quiet to not stay as quiet for much longer, I pushed my one plate and two utensils further onto the coffee table and took three quick swigs of cold coffee. “It’s not that big of a deal, they were just cardboard. We can make you another…”

Statement interrupted.

Mycroft was looking at Seamus

Seamus stared slack beaked at the broken recliner where one penguin was flinging spoonful’s of dinner at two more penguins wearing the cardboard glasses with their beaks through the eyeholes. I started looking for a perfect spot to hang three mounted penguin heads.

I stood up so fast my knees hit the edge of my plate, throwing what was left of dinner to the carpet.

“Enough!!”

Silence

Three penguins, two griffins and one unicorn stared in surprise.

“I can’t take another evening like this! Why does my life always have to be chaos?”

I took the one turn on my heel to the hallway, two steps into the bedroom, and three attempts to slam the door before realizing that a little yellow barrel was blocking it, and sat heavily on the bed with my head in my hands.

A moment alone to breathe.

A knock at the door.

A moment alone I wasn’t going to get.

“Would you like to talk?” The unicorn asked, his nose the only thing visible around the partially closed door.

I sighed (how many times have I done that tonight?) “They laid another group off today, and still have the balls to tell us that nothing is wrong. There’s only five of us left on the floor taking calls. IF the ship is sinking then why won’t they just tell us to be prepared so we have a backup plan?”

The unicorn pushed the door open and kicked the barrel further into the room. “I see the monkeys got out again. Maybe they are afraid that if they tell you that the ship as you call it is sinking that you will leave before their use for you has expired and they will be under water quicker.”

I picked a red plastic monkey off the comforter and tossed it to the pillow, smiling a little when it righted itself, joined two others on the pillow, and started jumping. “It just feels like a bad business practice to keep your employees in the dark about something that can affect their financial wellbeing. “

“Do you feel like you will be out of a job soon?”

“Yes!”

“Have you started looking elsewhere?”

“Of course.”

“And you do realize that there is that thing called unemployment. If you quit before they decide what their future holds then you won’t be able to take advantage of that helping hand if you don’t have another job before its necessary.”

“I’ve never needed to use it before but yeah I know.”

“Then you are being proactive about your situation and I have faith that it will work out for the best.” The unicorn stood on his back legs as a sign of victory and boxed his front hooves as much as he could in the cramped space.

“That may be true but I still feel like nothing is going my way.” A troop of plastic monkeys had made their way across the bed, and by linking their half circle arms, had proceeded to climb my shirt sleeve. I shook my arm, scattering the monkeys across the bed again to regroup. “And coming home to those honyocks always destroying everything and picking fights with each other is putting me on the edge of insanity!”

“Pardon my bluntness but I would have thought you went over a long while ago. You do reside with two gryphons, three penguins, one barrel of monkeys, and myself. And I am a Unicorn.”

“I don’t have to worry about you or the monkeys though.” I said, “You aren’t the reason I’m not getting my security deposit back, and the monkeys are easy to pop back in the barrel if they get out of hand.”

I reached under the corner of the bed and pulled out three socks, two hair ties and one soda bottle before getting a hand on the yellow barrel and bringing it up topside.

Professor Peacock started to drone on about how we may find a barrel large enough for the penguins but how it may be difficult to find two for the gryphons, then going further with how it may be even more difficult to convince them to climb in.

I half listened, focusing instead on capturing the monkeys jumping on the bed, their non-toxic plastic forms making little ponk noises when they hit the bottom of the barrel.

“You’re not listening, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“Not really.”

“That’s rather rude.”

“That is true”

“You don’t care, do you?”

“Not at this moment no.”

“Why are you tormenting the monkeys?”

“They have been told numerous times. No more monkeys jumping on the bed.”

“They are monkeys. That’s what they do.”

“They are also known to hide up in trees with stolen hats.”

“I remember that cautionary tale. “

The unicorn watched as I ponked the last of the moneys in the barrel, push the lid down, and set the barrel on the bedside table. I leaned back on my elbows and sighed (eleventh time I think). “I don’t know what I’m going to do about them.”

“but you already put them in the barrel. What more could you do with them?”

I grinned (the first time tonight). “I mean about Seamus, Mycroft and the idiot turkeys.””

“Penguins.”

I rolled my eyes, and when they landed, noticed the lid to the monkeys slowly rotating. “Whatever. I can’t take them out in public and can’t leave them home alone.”

From beyond the bedroom came one very wet sound, three squawks and two insistent shushes.

“Jeepers. They don’t even try to behave when I am home.”

I stood with a sigh (twelfth time), the unicorn moved horn first to the corner to allow me safe passage to the hallway, the barrel’s lid pushed off and monkeys erupted forth onto the bed, jumping with glee.

I rounded the immediate left corner in two steps and started to let loose with an almighty roar a tirade all too familiar to my housemates but abruptly stopped before the first declaration of beheadings could leave my voice box.

One penguin held a dustpan, the second was using a spoon to move macaroni and quinoa in alfredo sauce from the carpet to the dustpan, the third was using a spray cleaner and paper towels to wipe dinner off the broken recliner.

I stared at this unusual visual with what must have looked like an expression of malice to come.

“No troubles!” Spoon penguin nodded and bowed.

“No stains!” Spray penguin scrubbed harder.

“MERCY!!” Dustpan penguin left his post to fling himself at my ankles narrowly missing my toes with his beak as he tried to kiss my feet.

“Thank you for cleaning up.” I said to the three with a smile that I hoped looked genuine. There was a flurry of activity in the kitchen and hushed talking, but I couldn’t see anything definite from over the counter. I patted each of the three penguins on their noggins, stepped back out to the small hallway (dragging one penguin still attached to my ankle by his flippers squawking MERCY between beak kisses) and took two more steps to the kitchen doorway.

“Holy Hoover Damn! What… How…UGH?!?!?”

There was at least an inch of water covering the kitchen floor. There were paper towels soaked in piles both on and off their cardboard tubes. All the hand and bath towels were on the floor with the gryphons standing on them in attempts to skate dry the floor.

“In our defense, we may be getting the mopping and the dishes done all in one go.” Seamus stated while sliding on squishy towels, not collecting water but instead just pushing it from one side of the kitchen to the other.

“Gryphon paws do not have the gripping power that is needed to handle large pots of water when soap is applied. That is a fact proven here today.” Mycroft muttered giving the sink the stink eye. I followed his gaze.

There was no sink.

Only suds.

You never realize how many bubbles one bottle of dish soap contains till they are released.

I picked up the penguin at my feet and put him on the counter. “Well, lets get to it.” I started to roll up my sleeves then stopped, took my sweatshirt off and tossed it onto the floor. “Hey Professor, can you bring out the laundry please?” I looked to the doorway and saw the other two penguins staring at the bubbles in awe. “Don’t just stand there, go give him a hand, or … flipper.”

Again, a flurry of flippers, fur and horse feathers consumed the small apartment while the hampers were emptied from the bedroom and bathroom onto the kitchen floor.

The Professor looked approvingly over the kitchen counter from the living room, “Necessity is the mother of invention.”

“I thought your mother’s name was Karen?” Seamus quizzed me, pausing his mopping with a pair of heavy socks on his front paws.

“If her name is Necessity then we have been addressing the Mother’s Day cards wrong for many years. It’s sad when a child doesn’t know their own mother’s name.”

The Unicorn rolled his eyes “You ninny. It’s a saying that means a need or problem encourages creative efforts to meet the need or solve the problem. It’s from a dialogue called Republic by the Greek philosopher Plato.”

Two penguins scooted by in one pair of jeans.

“Smarty pants.”

“Et tu Brute?”

“That was Shakespeare.” Mycroft said with a snobbish jab at the penguin in the left pant leg.

The third penguin popped up from amidst the suds in the sink

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

Silence

We all looked astonished at the penguin who was now using the bottle scrubber to brush his teeth.

“Now that was actually Ian Maclaren AKA Rev Dr John Watson, and it has been misattributed as being Plato. Well said though, always relevant.” The unicorn said favorably with a nod.

The Kitchen clean up resumed with those words sitting on our synapses. Before long the water was sopped up, dishes washed and laid to dry in the rack on the counter, and the laundry was tossed wet into the tub for me to deal with in the morning.

With the night growing late, my headaches reclaimed their preferred seats in the living room.

I picked up my mug of cold coffee and took a sip. “Stupid question,” I started.

“No such thing as a stupid question!” Mycroft interjected.

Seamus shook his head harshly from side to side, skewing his specs. “I beg to argue that point. Ask a one-legged man if he has a step stool. He may think you a bit foolish.”

“I stand corrected.” Mycroft said with a nod to his brother.

“You sit corrected. You’re sitting after all Mycroft. Are you picking up what I’m putting down old chum?” Seamus asked with a snobbish inflection. A pillow smacked him in the beak.

“No, but you seem to be catching what I’m throwing.” Mycroft remarked with another pillow in paw to sling in his baffled brother’s direction.

Professor Peacock dropped a dozen spoons (more like seven spoons, five forks) disrupting the exchange and gaining the attention of two gryphons, three penguins and one me.

Silence.

“SO! What’s your question?”

I hoisted myself up to sit on the countertop overlooking the living room and surveyed the crowd before me. “What if I can’t find a job quick? What if we can’t keep the apartment?”

Seamus shrugged his winged shoulders and adjusted his soggy spectacles, “A change of scenery would be ideal. The neighborhood is not as posh as the brochures made it out to be.”

“I have always wanted to see Alaska.” Mycroft offered.

The penguins started joyfully bouncing on the broken recliner.

“Ideal!”

“snotsicles!”

“Copulating Polar bears have the right of way!”

I pushed the back of the recliner with my foot, jostling the occupants. “I don’t think that is included in artic road rules. Although I could be wrong, I’ve never driven in Alaska.”

Three seconds of silence as two penguins stared at one penguin.

“Cite sources!”

“We CAN handle the truth!”

With everyone’s eyes on him, the penguin put his flippers up and squawked “Kim!” as if the name was explanation enough.

Seamus picked up the nearest National Enquirer, “What page is she on? Wasn’t she cast as an extra on Channel 7 news?”

Professor Peacock shook his mane and stomped back into the kitchen to refill his cold coffee. “Was she being dragged away in cuffs? She should have been arrested for giving out fake facts like that.”

“I don’t care if its true or not, we are not moving to Alaska on a whim.” I raised my voice and my hands to gain the attention of my peers.

The penguins started squawking angrily.

“Not fair!”

“Insensitive to our needs!”

“Sad Panda!”

The gryphons started flapping their wings and scratching the couches.

“There is no reasoning with you!” Seamus shouted as he tugged at the curtains, bending the rod in the middle almost to the point of breaking.

Mycroft threw the pillows and cushions to the floor “ATTICA, ATTICA!!”

“I’m just saying that we should look into all our options.” I said, thinking that some logic would soothe the now savage beasts.

“And what why can’t Alaska be an option?” Seamus glowered over his shoulder at me.

I caved, “I didn’t say it couldn’t be an option, just asked that we not jump the gun. Please!”

The Penguins looked questioningly at each other.

“Guns?”

“Arm bears!”

“Can’t arm. Got Flippers.”

“There is no way you three are getting firearms. I shouldn’t even allow you guys to use the faucet without supervision.” I slid off the counter and picked up my phone from the coffee table. Time was getting away from me. “Alright you guys, it’s getting late. Can I please have some quiet time. I have applications to finish.

One unicorn brought me a cup of cold coffee, two gryphons turned the Tv back on (muted) and settled on their separate couches. Three penguins arranged the pillows strewn on the floor.

I cleared a spot at the kitchen table and powered on the laptop. As I waited for the browser to load, Professor Peacock approached and hovered.

“Do you feel better about the situation?”

“Not completely, but Ill take it one day at a time.”

“Sounds like a good game plan.” He nodded his head, backed up and joined the others in the Livingroom.