Friendship Agreement

"I'm sorry, I think I misunderstood you," Penn said staring at the papers in his hand. "What exactly did you call this?"

"It's a Friendship Agreement," Shelly said it loudly and very clearly - like his hearing was the problem.

"There is nothing wrong with my ears." He grumbled, "There is no such thing as a Friendship Agreement."

"You're holding one in your hand. I can't think of a more compelling proof." Shelly showed her standard reaction to objection, she started explaining, "A Friendship Agreement is a standardized contract that-"

"This is not standard." Penn weighed the thick stack of paper in his hand. "I've never seen or even heard of something like this before." He tried to hand it back.

"No!" Shelly squealed. "You need to read and sign it if we want to be friends."

"We're friends," Penn corrected the scientist indignantly.

"We're not officially friends."

"Official friends?" To evade her having act like his hearing was the problem, he hurriedly explained, "There is no such thing as official friends."

"Yes, there is. Just think of your online friends." Shelly's answer came without missing a beat.

"That's not a very good argument. The 'friends' on your online profile are not really 'friends' – most of them are just people you know of." Penn was surprised how harsh that sounded but beating around the bush was the exact opposite of what you wanted to do whenever Shelly was involved.

His neighbor looked with big eyes at him. To evade getting sidetracked, he held the stack of papers under her nose. "This is not how friendship works."

"I'll have you know that it works well enough," Shelly replied haughtily. "You can ask Leonard or Raj. Or even Howard."

"They signed this?" Penn flipped to the last page.

Shelly sighed in exasperation, "They have their own copies, naturally. It would hardly be a binding contract without their respective names on it."

"You mean to tell me this is legally binding?" Penn was shocked.

"It wouldn't be a contract if it wasn't legal and binding." Shelly glowered at him. "If it wasn't legal and binding it would be a declaration of intent or whatever such drivel is currently called."

"They signed a copy of this?" Penn flipped it open at a random page.

"Personalized versions actually," Shelly informed him in a neutral tone.

His curiosity got the better of Penn as he turned back to the front page to check out what kind of nonsense the guys had signed to make Shelly stop pestering them.

The first pages were very, very general and like a dictionary. Why Shelly thought it was necessary to explain basic terms like what a favor was, was beyond him. Penn almost skipped all of it but luckily his eyes spotted the word reciprocal in the middle of a massive paragraph. It turned out to be the preamble. Did Shelly think that she was the UN – or why had she bothered to write a preamble? Very grumpily, Penn read it. "So this contract is more or less revolving around balancing favors?"

Shelly had followed him into his flat and had sat in her usual spot on his couch. "Yes, it is."

She looked so eager and excited. Penn cursed himself. Why was it so hard to tell her off? She made him do stuff all the time. Somehow, his willingness to help was triggered all the time by her. Not without resignation, he realized that this contract might be a good idea for him.

Some minutes later, he asked, "I have to drive you to the doctor?"

"Yes."

"Even in the middle of the night?"

"In emergencies that don't justify calling an ambulance." The line was a quote from the contract.

"I'm pretty sure that it's not an emergency if calling an ambulance is not justified," Penn commented dryly.

"If you need an example think of toothache."

"How would you even reciprocate that? You don't have a driving license,"

"The contract is not about balancing one favor with an equal one. It is meant to balance our mutual favors as a whole."

Which made sense, thought Penn. They'd have to start a tally list otherwise. Shelly probably had one in her head. "Are you currently indebted favor-wise to me?"

"Slightly."

"And through what kind of favor are you going to rectify that?" He asked curiously.

"I'll do your tax and I'll also keep on paying for your food."

"You're paying for my food?" Penn blinked in confusion. "I thought we were taking turns."

Shelly looked in confusion at him then frowned. "You mean to tell me that Leonard, Howard, and Raj never paid you anything?"

"Why should they? We were taking turns getting the take out. Besides I've never seen you giving money to anyone either."

"Why would I use cash in a world in which I can digitally transfer money and circumvent the germs spread by its physical form?" With a delighted smile, Shelly announced, "Don't worry, I'll calculate how much each of them owes you."

"They owe me nothing. We're taking turns paying for food."

"No. We're not! I'm paying for your food." Shelly said determinedly. "Because in a world in which I do not pay for your food, I would owe quite a lot." Her voice got such an impressive panicky tone at the end that Penn decided to not get involved in this. Shelly could fix this with the three other guys.

Once more in control of their discussion, she told him, "I'm paying Leonard's, your's and my portion in full and am subsidizing Raj's and Howard's with thirty percent each."

"You're paying us with food to be your friends?" Penn summarized.

"No, I'm compensating your favors by repaying them with favors of my own – inviting you to dinner. It's a classic social construct."

"And that is what this is about?" Penn tapped the papers.

"See, that wasn't so hard to understand, was it?"

"Like I said before that's not how friendship works."

"I'll have you know that it works very well! I just wrote down what we're doing anyway."

"If we're doing it anyway. What's the purpose of this?" Penn waved the contract dramatically – like he was in a play and Shelly was his audience.

"Why do you have to be like that? Are you trying to ruin everything? You know that I can't stand uncertainty or owing somebody. If I owed you something I'd have to constantly watch out for opportunities on how I could repay you. Do you know how taxing that is?"

"You don't have to repay every favor."

"Yes, I have to! I can't be not aware of such things. It's like fumes of smoke are constantly wavering through my mind and making me mentally cough."

Penn almost said a few very unfavorable words but there was something about Shelly's tone which made him hesitate. He realized that Shelly was reluctant about using similes and rarely used metaphors. She had ranted about the difference just a few days ago. "Mentally cough?"

"Nobody ever understands that!" Shelly whined in frustration. "How can you be so unaware of everything?"

"Me?"

"Not just you, everybody!" Shelly started venting a frustration Penn had never realized existed. But soon he soon learned was very real for his neighbor. "It's like every human I ever meet is only occasionally using his mind or memory. Everybody spends most of their life in mental standby. What's so hard about using one's mind and memory at all times?"

Penn's first impulse was to tell Shelly off and that they were all using their heads constantly. But, before he could do so he thought of all the times he had told Shelly to relax or go easy and how she had never done so.

"Okay, I'll have a look at it."

Shelly smiled happily.

Then Penn tried to signal her with looks that he would like to do so without her sitting next to him. But his significant looks and nodding in direction of the door were completely ignored. "You could do some science stuff while I'm doing so."

"Oh!" Shelly gasped. "I get it." She winked exaggeratedly at him and left.