Son of a mad scientist.

I'm the son of a mad scientist.

I know what you're thinking. "Ha! You must be kidding! Son of a mad scientist! Ha!" Well, it's true. I have a whole crew of creepy butlers in my house, the basement is a secret lab, and I live in a giant, gothic-style house.

Me? I'm Lewis, son of a mad scientist, yet getting a C in science. I have ADD and get bullied all the time. Y'know, a normal geek.

My story started a long time ago, when my dad, who became a millionaire from a recipe he invented; chicken flavored waffles (actually they're waffle shaped pieces of chicken), decided to pursue his "childhood dream" of being a mad scientist.

We had just bought the new house... CUE FLASHBACK SOUND AFFECT!

I stood in front of a giant, 10-story Gothic-style house. It was supposed to be my new home.

Yeah, right.

The door to the house was one of those small, wooden, looks-like-its-about-to-eat-you doors. The porch was wooden also, but it looked liked it was mostly made of mold. All in all, it wasn't the Marriot Hotel

My dad opened the door. Inside this ruined house was a creaky, old main hall. The peeling paint on the walls matched the peeling paint on the floor.

"It's..it's,"

"Perfect!" Dad said, finishing my sentence not exactly the way I was going to.

You probably want to know more about my dad, don't you? He's the whole reason this was written. I guess this is as good as a place as any to tell you.

My dad was originally a food scientist for McDonald's. Then, for whatever reason he was fired (Dad won't talk about it. All I know is that it involved a hairbrush, ketchup, and an incredibly explosive batch of hamburger.). For a while, Dad was a freelance food experimenter, but then came chicken favored waffles (but were actually waffle shaped pieces of chicken). I-hop bought his recipe and he became a millionaire overnight. Soon afterward, he decided to become a mad scientist.

So here I am. In what could be the Adams family's house. In fact, I think my dad did buy it from a family with the last name "Adam". Huh.

"Dad," I said in an exasperated tone. "You can't be a mad scientist. You weren't laughed out of the science community, you don't have any creepy butlers, and you haven't invented anything."

"Well, I was fired, wasn't I?" Dad responded. "And I invented the recipe. You also reminded me.

Dad got out his WAAAAY outdated cell phone and called someone.

I have always thought the one-sided conversations you hear when someone else is talking on the phone were strange and very interesting. This was one of those conversations.

"Hello, is this the creepy butler hiring company? Yes? O.K., I'd like 100 butlers delivered to 1313 Graveyard Lane, please. Big house on the hill, you won't miss it. Next week? Great! O.K., bye!" my Dad said into the cell phone.

In frustration that my dad had missed the point, I stormed off into the freakishly large house (If it could even be called that). After storming though several rooms, making sure to slam doors and stomp loudly, I threw my self onto a sofa that was left behind. It was late, and I was tiered and, well, I dozed off a little bit later. I was having a dream about fish-eating plants when...

"Hello there!"

I bolted up, woken by the strange voice. "Who-," I began, startled.

"What, when, where, and why," a voice said from thin air, as if it was inside my head. "And I believe how is used also."

"Ummmm... not the 5 W's of writing, what I meant was who's there," I said awkwardly to the bodiless voice.

"Oh! In that case, I'm the living room," the voice said. "Literally. And you are?"

"Uh... I'm Lewis," I responded uncomfortably. "So, you're a living room?"

"Haven't you ever heard of a living room?"

"Not one that talks and uses the 5 W's."

"Oh..,"the room said, sounding hurt.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Dad looked at me. "Nothing. Why did you ask?"

Totally confused that Dad couldn't hear the room, I said in dazed tone, "Ummm, no reason."

Dad shrugged his shoulders and left.

"Well, I haven't had anyone to talk to and I've been alone so long... and now you come along and you don't even know rooms are ALIVE!" the Living room sobbed loudly, appearing as a leak on my head.

"Well, that's terrible and all, but I have a few questions," I said, trying to be somewhat compassionate to calm the room down.

"Oh!? REALLY!? WHAT ARE THEY!?" the Living room asked happily.

"Oooooookaaaaaaayyyyyyy...," I asked uncomforably. "First of all, why on earth do you behave soooo strangely?"

"Uhhhhhhhh. I dunno." the room said stupidly in another mood swing. "I think it was something about a personality disorder. The last owner I had told me that. I think."

"Well, I'm your new owner, and I don't want a ballistic attitude."

"Fine, whatever," the room said in yet another mood.

"One last thing. Why didn't my dad hear you?"

"I don't know... but its really fun-he-HE-HE!" The room said in between chuckles, followed by a loud laugh that shook the room in an earthquake.

When the laughing finally subsided, I slowly backed out of the room and said, "O.K... I'm going to leave now. Bye."

"Come back soon! Don't just LEAVE me here! Ah, who cares?"

I then, gladly, left the room.