|Confessions of a
by Bradley Wainwright
Im a furniture man. I dont make it. I dont sell it. I dont even own any of it. Not furniture, I dont. But any time I happen upon furniture, I use it, I tell you!
If I walk up to a chair, I sit in that chair! And when I come across a bed, I take a nap, even if I dont feel sleepy. Thats just the sort of person I am I feel that every object has a purpose, and by helping objects fulfill those purposes well, we make this world a friendlier place. Some people make use of money, others take on orphans. Not me, though. Im a furniture man.
Now the other day I was walking on down the road, whistling a happy tune by those Divinyls that the kids love so much, and I found myself a chair. A beautiful chair, made of wood. Wood from a tree. It was quite a sight, the way the chair sat on the sidewalk, all wooden and all. It was beautiful.
So I stopped my strolling and I walked right up to the chair, I knew it wouldnt bite me. Chairs dont bite. Animals bite. And I knew this chair werent no animal, cause it was made of wood, but thats the sort of thing I know. Its what I do. Im a furniture man.
So I came up to that beautiful, wooden, non-animal chair, and I sat down in it, I tell you! It was a marvelous fit. The curves of the wood gently held my buttocks, and I leaned back to stretch out.
But when I did my leaning well, I discovered something wonderful. The chair took all my weight, and then it kept going back, back, back, back, back. My feet were inches off the ground! And when I rested my head, I could see clear up to the clouds.
I smiled at heaven that day, and heaven smiled back at me. Because just as I feared that I might be trapped in that chair, staring at the clouds forever why, the chair felt the pull of Mother Earth, and we moved forward, that chair and I. I was sitting upright once again, but I didnt stop there, oh no.
My feet hit the ground, and I felt my knees start to bend, as the chair began to push against me the critter was trying to buck me off, like I was in one of them old-fashioned rodeos. Now, Ive never been in a rodeo, mself, but Ive seen "Young Guns" and "Young Guns 2" and I know that Lou Diamond Phillips wouldnt a-been beaten by a chair, and neither would I.
I rested my arms on those arm rests, and I rode that chair back to the clouds and forth to the ground again and again. And when its time was done, that chair lost its will and momentum. Thanks to Mr. Newton, that chair was mine. I sat in that chair through the day and long into the night, until a man chased me away with his shotgun. But I dont mind him protecting his chair. It was a marvelous chair. And I should know. Im a furniture man.