Gaius Maxwell Baddeley

 

I kept getting a vibe from Gaius, like, "Everything you do is on my dime, and I expect more out of you." I was staying the night at his house and was unsatisfied with the TV watching, so I went to the other room to go to sleep. He didn't like that. He was expecting me to at least be sociable.

I decided I'd try to clean up the guest room out of guilt. It turned out that the spray cleaner I was using contained betadine, which if you are familiar with it (or if you aren't) turns things blood red on contact. The walls and sheets were completely stained like a murder scene, thanks to my cleaning efforts. More dissatisfaction from Gaius.

Next, he decided on a list of things I could do to remediate the situation. Something to do with picking up a friend of his and cleaning a toaster. I said, "sure" to the picking up the friend, but balked at the toaster. 

"Why--and how--and, well, you show me what exactly kind of cleaning I'm supposed to be be doing on this thingy. I mean, it's still plugged in," I protested, excuses at the ready.

I settled for cleaning a waffle iron instead, but also got roped into cleaning his moccasins. Those things were filthy dirty and had an unending amount of sandy, dried river sediment in them. The more you shook them out, the more they kept making dirty clouds of dust.

I'm not sure what else was going on, but I woke up briefly in the dream and made a mental note to myself: "Why is Gaius Baddeley trying to de-legitimize me?" I never got the answer. Fortunately, now that I'm awake, I realize that it doesn't matter in the least.

I knew Gaius from Play Mountain Place, a hippie alternative school I attended from kindergarten through second grade. And while I did have sleepovers at his house, and he did have a slightly condescending attitude toward me at the time, I don't believe it had much of an effect on my formative psyche. I just thought, "he's a bit of an asshole" and left it at that. Sorry, Max, if you're reading this, but you know it was true.