If these walls could talk, they’d tell tales of love and loss, heartbreak and triumph, and of the inherent mundanity of day-to-day living. They’d discuss the trials of tribulations of existence, weaving long yarns of first steps, last breaths, and of people, places, and things from days gone by. If these walls could talk, they’d speak of secret shames and public prides. These walls would detail the highs and lows of daily existence, the laughs, the tears, the yawns, and the burps, occasionally even doing some yawning and burping of their own. If these walls could talk, oh they’d have stories to tell. Stories that weren’t always especially good. Stories that, in fact, were never good and rarely paid off. If these walls could talk, ugh, they’d actually be pretty annoying.

If these walls grew a mouth and a tongue and teeth and an alveolar ridge and whatever else is required to make sounds, they’d speak of an entire history of things seen and heard and you’d probably want to move to a different house because walls aren’t really supposed to do that. Yeah, at first you’d be pretty scared if these walls started talking, but eventually it would just become grating what with all the banal trivia and incessant gossip. If these walls could talk, they'd talk a lot about the things the last guy who had this room used to do in private and some of them might be pretty uncouth. In fact, these walls, most likely, wouldn’t shut up about the illicit tales of Jeffrey, the old tenant. If these walls could talk, they’d probably have pretty loose lips and say some fairly unflattering things about Jeffrey, his diet, his lack of exercise, and some of the TV shows that he used to watch. These walls would shit-talk Jeffrey at least once a day for watching all of Dawson’s Creek.

If these walls could talk, they might also get pretty judgy about your lifestyle too. These walls might ask you why you’re home so much and why you never bring any friends over, but when these walls said “friends,” you’d both know that they meant women. And when these walls told you that you needed to feed them human flesh, you would find it off-putting but not especially surprising given the context of some of these walls' recent remarks. You’d probably want to contact the realtor who sold you the house because at no point during the closing did he mention that the walls had a consciousness and that you were going to have to feed them flesh.

If these walls could talk, they would do the thing where they always try to one-up every story that you have. Like you might tell these walls a story about seeing a guy nearly get hit by a car and then these walls be like: You think that’s something, I saw three guys almost get hit by a car and you wouldn’t believe them because they are walls and have never been outside and are obviously just trying to impress you. If these walls could talk, they’d lie a lot. You’d hope these walls were lying when they said they ate Jeffrey after he refused to feed them flesh, but you’d kind of doubt it. If these walls could talk, they’d talk openly about their plan to eat you and you’d just kind of have to deal with it because all houses have their problems and at least the HOA fees here are reasonable.

If these walls could talk, they’d talk incessantly about themselves while never asking you any questions about yourself and it might slowly and steadily drive you crazy. So much so that these walls would force you to put your new house immediately up for sale. These walls might feel bad upon learning they had driven you out before confessing that they didn’t eat Jeffrey, they were just trying to seem cool. And when you’d eventually leave these walls, you’d say your goodbye in a terse manner and these walls would be mean because they were emotionally stunted. These walls would threaten to spill your dirty laundry to the future inhabitants and you’d be like, whatever, nobody will believe you because you’re a wall.

And then you’d leave and these walls would have new stories to tell.