Wednesday, January 25, 2006


That's When I Carried You
by the Gimp Chair

One night, Andrew, you had a dream. You dreamed you were pushing me through the house: to the room with the ying-yang table, to the office to do some grading, or to the table for the extra unexpected guest. For each scene, you noticed two sets of footprints on the floor; one belonging to you, and the other to me. When the last scene of your dream flashed before you, you looked back at the footprints on the floor. You noticed that many times along the floor of your house there was only one set of footprints. You also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in your life. This bothered you, and you questioned me about it. "Gimp Chair, you said that once I decided to buy you from office depot, you would walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me." I replied, "My precious, precious child. I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you."

Screw You Gimp Chair
by Andrew

Screw you Gimp Chair! When I first bought you, you promised to be not only affordable but comfortable. Now that I've spent a month sitting on you...well atleast you were affordable. Your cheap imitation pleather is neither soft nor plush. Your arm rails left black scars on the walls of my house, which I bumped into only because your wheels always stick. Your recline is far from sufficient, leaving me cramped and uncomfortable. Your adjustable height is neither high enough to let me reach the counters in the kitchen with ease nor short enough to let me elevate my broken leg on any of the other furniture. Your wheels spread dirt and scratches all across my floor. I must be fair however. You did have your advantages. After all, I can't carry anything on crutches and my shoulders were getting sore from having to support myself. Today when the doctor told me I could start walking again, it was all I could do to choke back the tears of joy. Now that I've freed myself from you, I'm sending you back to the depths of the forgotten office. Oh does it seem like a cruel punishment for all your dutiful service. Just be glad we aren't still living in San Carlos because you'd be chopped to pieces and then burned with scrap wood in our backyard firepit. Screw You Gimp Chair. If I never sit in you again, it'll be too soon.

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