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“Should I tell them who I am, Orwell?” Frankie asks the stuffed owl in the corner. “They like all my personalities. Maybe they’ll like knowing I’m a YouTube personality?”
The brown toy owl stares back, unblinking its little button eyes. The housemate with the pink tint in his hair takes it as a sign. He pets the owl and leaves to make the announcement. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, celebrity, twenty. Orwell is always there for the houseguests. Whichever houseguest is feeling anxious, depressed, or even speechless excited, Orwell is there for him or her. Sam has nominated two of the biggest threats in the house. Crying, she runs to Orwell.
“Oh, Orwell… have I just made the biggest mistake of my time here?” The owl doesn’t say a word, it doesn’t blink and merely stares back with a vacant look. Sam nods in understanding, cuddling him more. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”