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I used to rule the world. Or at least, my company did. Hard to believe when you look at me now, but I did. Once, I controlled everything. Nothing could happen without my permission. I was pretty darn close to being head honcho, but I learned that no matter how high you’re up there is always someone higher to take the fall for. People took the fall for me, once. But now the only things that fall for me are pigs, such as the one used to make this horrible pork tenderloin.

The man who cooked it sits across from me. He hums to himself, glancing to me as if I should join in. All he will receive from me is a pointed glare. He stops. An awkward silence falls over the dinner table.

“You know, Victor, I’m really quite happy you came to live with me.” He says, attempting to cut his meat. “It’s quite nice, you know, not being alone for once. And you’re such a pleasure to have.” Lies. I’m only here because he was the only person who would take me in.

“Don’t Richard.” I growl, a warning to the hapless soul in front of me. He should take that as a sign to back off. But no, Richard just smiles at me and continues talking.

“How do you like the meat?” he asks. I roll my eyes.

“It’s fine. Pass the sauerkraut .”

Richard sighs. “You know, you don’t have to lie to me, Victor. I know that I can’t cook.” He pushes the condiment towards me. “That stuff you’re putting on it tastes awful too, but I guess it covers up the bad meat.”

Speaking of the meat, I take a long look at it and decide that I’ll be better off hungry. “I’m going to eat later. I’ll be in my room.”

“Are you sure? I got ice cream for dessert.” I sit down. “See? Even though we’re worlds apart, we both love one thing.” Good lord, I want to punch that man sometimes. Or kill him. Then I can live in this house, and change that awful upholstery.  But no, he keeps it because of his wife.

“Shelly loved ice cream too.” He muses, eyes drifting off like his mind so often does.  He almost hit’s the wall on the way to the fridge. Good god, here he goes again. The poor man can’t seem to get over the fact that his wife left him about 3 years ago for his mailman. I almost hate the woman, not just for running out on the man who gave up his dreams for her, but for leaving me alone with no one else for Richard to annoy with his constant cheeriness.

“Richard.” I say, slowly and kindly. Doesn’t work. “Richard!”

“What?” He looks up. “Oh, sorry Victor. Must have drifted off again. The ice cream is melting.”

“That’s fine.” I say, more to myself because Richard is looking at his carpet. “Really, Richard. Melted or not, it’s still ice cream.”

“I suppose that you’re right, Victor.” He smiles shyly, avoiding  my gaze. “You know, Victor, I think you just might be the best friend I’ve ever had.”

I choke a bit on my ice cream. Friend!? I treat the man like my servant and he calls me his friend!? I don’t know were he knows friendship from, nor do I know when I’ve ever had a ‘friend.’

“What exactly do you mean, friend!?” I say, which sounds like angry yelling because I have a piece of ice cream lodged in my throat. Richard looks taken aback, almost depressed. “I’m sorry, Richard. It’s just that…I’ve never really had a friend.”

“Well, you put up with me, you never yell at me…” His voice went quiet. “And you haven’t walked out on me.”

“I can’t. There’s no where else to go.” Bad choice of words. “But if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“Really?” Richards eyes light up. I can’t help but crack a small smile.

“Definitely. Now,” I desperately wanted to change the subject. “I haven’t had cake in six years and I noticed that you had made one. May I have a piece?”

“Sure.” Richard got up to get it, but then stopped. “Wait…Are you just saying that to make me feel better, or do you actually want my cooking?”

“You’ll see.” I gave him a small grin. Richard smirked and disappeared into the kitchen. I knew then that I had made my first real friend. I reached out to get another spoonful of ice cream (thank god Richard didn’t make it) and my sleeve fell in the sauerkraut.