Yesterday, I found myself shopping, alone. I happened to be in the furniture section of a department store. While perusing the ottomans, easy chairs and couches, I came across the most fantastic chair I had ever seen. It was a dark brown suede couch. The kind you'd think Hugh Hefner has Playboy Bunnies waiting around in...before he bones them. Yeah, that was kind of gross...the guy is 900 years old and bangs people that are the age equivalent of his great grand kids. What the hell is with that? Oh...right...it's every man's dream. I forgot.
T he chair was immaculate and splendid in every way. The cushions, plump and firm. The frame sturdy with simple design and brilliantly comfortable. It's cushioning was divine. The only problem was the old lady currently admiring it.
She was a kindly old soul. Her white hair curled ever so humbly about her head. Her tweed skirt and jacket were rife with cliche' church going styling. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to have be napping. I hated her. She was violating what would soon be mine...a chair of the gods.
"Excuse me ma'am...would you kindly remove your death addled ass from my heaven sent furnishing?"
I believe in being firm with the elderly. If not, then, they can grow embittered and snooty very quickly. Then, it's bitch, bitch bitch.
"Hello? Old Timer? Take your last stand against death's door somewhere else, there are actual buyers present!"
Just then, a salesman approached and interjected, "Sir, may I help you?"
Like this...but, with more facial hair...and Cheeto fingers.
"Indeed you can, good sir. I wish to purchase this fine chair, yet, I am unable to fully test it's capabilities with this future carcass taking up it's awesomeness."
"Sir, you don't have to be rude.", was his reply.
"Rude? I'm merely stating a fact. I'm in a buying frenzy good man and this bag of age is hampering my ability to spread the wealth. Should I take my business elsewhere?"
Sighing in a disapproving manner, he began to try to wrest the woman from her sleep.
"Ma'am? Excuse me ma'am, I'm afraid I need you to get up. Ma'am?".
The salesman's mood changed to worry and he began to speak louder and with more urgency, "Ma'am? Ma'am, can you hear me?". She remained unresponsive. He checked her breathing and put his ear to her chest. He then, yelled for anyone to call "9-1-1". Another salesman rushed to the phone. The salesman stood up. Other customers gathered to see the commotion first hand.
"Oh, my god.", he said, while rubbing his hand across his forehead in anguish. "Oh, my god, I can't believe this. This is horrible."
"Tell me about it", I replied, "I've been here for 5 whole minutes and this ghastly woman is still in the chair I want to buy."
The salesman turned to me aghast and said, "What? Are you serious? What is wrong with you? This woman is dead."
"Yes...", I replied, "Dead in a chair I desperately want to buy."
"Well, I can't sell it to you now!", he exclaimed.
"Why not?", I retorted.
"A woman's died in the bloody thing!", he shouted.
For a moment, I stood there, looking solemnly down at the woman...taking in the information. A full minute passed between us.
"So, there's a discount then?"
So, who's the proud owner of an old lady killing death chair? This guy.