Instead, he took me to the room behind the statue, which seemed to be the living room. It was enormous, about the size of my entire house. The walls and ceiling had shiny white tiles, while the floor was covered in a shag carpet that felt like a fluffy pillow. It even smelled fancy, like caviar or something. A gigantic flat screen TV—three times as big as the one in the House—stood on one end of the room, with a huge sound system hooked up to it and a large set of fancy-looking sofas situated in front of it. A large window, with a nook for reading, revealed the fantastic garden on the other side behind the house.
Reclining in an armchair that looked more expensive than Dad's car was Plutarch himself. He was dressed in fancy red robes, reading a huge book that I didn't recognize. He looked
