He'd been there for three days so far. He still hadn't gone home. Edgar was starting to wonder if he'd ever go home. Was it even home anymore? Nny had finally gotten over the fact that Edgar had yet to leave his house. They functioned in relative compatibility. Edgar suspected this was most likely due to the fact that if Nny became frustrated with him, he could always drag him into the basements and kill him. It was this fact that kept Edgar ever so subdued and polite of Johnny's house rules. Rule #1: Don't sit in my chair. Rule #2: If you empty the tub of limbs, you bury them. Rule #3: Don't sleep in my bed. The third rule was quite interesting, mostly because Edgar hadn't found the bed until the second night. When he had, Nny had been somewhere in the basement and he knew by now that the man was a chronic insomniac. So what could the harm be? Edgar had settled down on the surprisingly comfortable furniture, pulled the blankets over himself and fallen asleep. Without any kind of warning a few hours later he was roughly awakened by Johnny's foot in his back sending him flying off the bed. "Question sleep!" He had cackled before disappearing again. Edgar had yelled something back at him, probably a myriad of obscenities. Over the next hour he had emptied the tub, buried the limbs, and scrubbed out the tub before finally falling asleep in it.
The fourth day was the day that Edgar discovered the kitchen actually contained edible food. It was quite surprising because for the past few days Johnny had simply taken him out to eat when they both happened to be hungry at the same time. Then, usually, out to eat meant either the gas mart or the taco place. Neither was very good for one's stomach, or at least, not Edgar's. There was a line of cupboards stretching across the wall right up against the ceiling, and then another set embedded under the counters. The fridge was dingy and rather unremarkable, and the stove made Edgar inch towards his cleaning supplies. Naturally before his inspection was complete he was cleaning. He wasn't sure where this urge had come from, the need to clean. He guessed it was being in Nny's house. Granted, Edgar's house wasn't necessarily immaculate, but it wasn't infested with bugs, covered in bloody body parts or encrusted with grime either. The floor's level of filthiness was more helpful than bothersome when he was scrubbing away at it. The dirt was caked up so much in places that with very little prodding whole sections of it would come up. He was currently putting those sections into one of the buckets he'd found lying around the house.
Edgar hummed to himself, inwardly congratulating himself as he pried the last of the scum slabs off. Now he could get out the mop and get at the next layer. Then, because he couldn't stand it he went back to the cracks in the tile with iron wool to get the last of the crust off. When he was finished he was truly amazed. The tile put down in the kitchen was really nice, it wasn't even linoleum. It'd just been covered up for who knows how long. Encouraged by his results with the tile, Edgar moved onto the counters. He was thus rewarded with bronze washed concrete slabs. The fridge remained unimpressive, but at least by the time he was done with it, it didn't smell nearly as bad. The stove and oven was, by far, the worst part of the kitchen. He opened the door to the oven and reeled back when a colony of ants poured out. Barely managing to save his cleaning chemicals and broom and mop he fled from the kitchen. He then spent the next hour or so in town getting spray and ant traps to kill the bugs with. He also used the time to calm himself down. He hated bugs. You could say he had a sort of phobia…pertaining to bugs. That would also be a broad generalization but…ah well. Edgar noticed something, on his way home from the home improvement store. People seemed to be actually looking at him, instead of through him. It was a frustrating realization and Edgar immediately wondered why it bothered him. Didn't he want to stop being invisible? He wanted people to see him. That's why he stayed with Johnny. He stopped for a moment at that thought before he realized that he was blocking the sidewalk. He shuffled to the side and collected himself. Okay, it was okay. He had a reason now. Whereas he didn't have a reason before to stay, now he had a reason. He had one. But still, unused to such inspection, Edgar walked back to Johnny's house with a bit of a hunch to his shoulders. It felt very odd, to even be glanced at, to be seen.