Another House (Not as Cool as Mine)

   I’m back, guys!  Owen Tucker is in the house.  Or on the screen.  Or however you want to say it. 
   Now I’m sure you all want to get right down to the journal thingy, but first I gotta add something.  Some of you may be wondering how I’ve been carrying my special rock thing around with me.  I know I am.  And so I’m most apologetic that I failed to mention the fact that I got it made into a necklace so I wouldn’t have to carry it around.  Like one of those metal bead ones that they use for dog tags and stuff.  It’s very handy dandy now. 
   Anyway, just thought I’d mention that.  Now back to our regularly scheduled program.
   7/23/12:  On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) there was again a weird time flux which froze me between posts.  Very annoying for me, very convenient for you.  As it happens though, that left me with my Asian friend going—somewhere.  This week, though, my vision came back, so I could see where we were going.  Turns out we were in quite a nice neighborhood and were heading to a very nice looking house.  It was one of those kind of small houses with nice stonework and ivy growing all over it, making it look older than it really was. 
   “Nice house,” I said.
   “Thank you,” he replied.
   “Ach,” Wilfred interjected. “Doon’t you say a word.  Ah’ll be bach weth soom help soon.”
   This time, amazingly, I was able to restrain myself from saying the reply that was on my lips.  I smiled to myself.  I was improving.  Wilfred would be proud.  If he wasn’t already gone.  Which he probably was. 
   By this time my companion and I had reached the front door.  He opened it and gestured for me to go in.  I smiled and was about to go in, but then a thought occurred to me.  What the heck was I even doing here in the first place?  This guy had wanted to go to my castle-house HQ.  What were we doing here?  Being ever one to speak my mind, I did so.
   Stopping before the door, I held up my hand. “Hang on a sec.  Why are we here?”
   My Asian friend (I really need to get his name) looked confused. “What problem?”  He smiled and gestured inside. “My house.”
   “And I’m sure it’s a lovely joint,” I replied. “But I don’t even know your name, and my parents have always told me to never speak with strangers.”
   Now he looked even more confused. “But, you talk all this time?”
   I nodded. “Right.  So you should have told me your name right off the bat.  Then we wouldn’t have been strangers.  We would have been acquaintances.  As it is, we are still strangers, and my parents are very strict about not going into strangers houses, especially if candy is offered as a stimulant.”
   He shook his head most vehemently. “I no offer candy.”
   “Which means one of three things.  Either you are a person very bad at child kidnapping—because I always go for the candy—, a person who is trying to very hard not to look like a child kidnapper while really being one, or just a really nice gentleman who happened upon a random young man and took him for a ride in your fancy car back to your house for no apparent reason.”
   He nodded. “Yes.  Last one.”
   I thought about that for a second. “Well, you know, that doesn’t reassure me very much.”
   He shrugged. “Come inside.  We talk.”
   I frowned and shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
   He nodded. “Yes.  Inside.”
   I shook my head. “No.  Outside.”
   He nodded. “Yes.  Inside.”
   I shook my head harder. “No!  Outside.  Home!”
   He huffed. “Fine.  You be difficult.  Leave me no choice.”
   With a spin move added for style, he grabbed my arm, did this really cool twisty thing, that actually really hurt, and dragged me inside.

   Dun dun dun!...to be continued!...