Over the next two days, Andrew and Mason found three more of the reels. One was hidden underneath the cushion of one of the chairs in the spare room that Mason found when the cushion fell off as he carried it down the hall and into the living room; Andrew was the one who tripped over the cushion and nearly cracked his head against the doorframe.
They discovered the fourth one while trying to knock old cereal boxes off the top of the fridge with a broom instead of standing on the worn, slightly unstable counter. Andrew barely managed to catch the canister before it fell on Mason’s foot.
Judging by the amount of dust on the fifth one, it had rolled under the couch months before they moved in and decided to move it to the other side of the room. Mason nearly lost his balance and dropped his end of the couch on himself when he stepped on it and sent it spinning out from underneath his foot. By this point, Mason had had enough. “This whole damn house is booby trapped with the stupid things!” He ranted as Andrew calmly examined the canister for dents before placing it on the shelf with the others. “It’s like this house doesn’t even want us here!” “You know that’s not true, Mase. You’re just having a run of bad luck, that’s all,” Andrew replied calmly as he admired the small collection gathering on the shelf. “Those stupid, worthless pieces of crap are going to be the death of me. Mark my words!” Mason strode angrily out of the room, the couch momentarily forgotten. “Consider