The Chair is My Enemy

Last week, Ponytail Junction received a very unwelcome addition to the house. It was not, as some of you must surely be thinking, a werewolf baby born out of wedlock, but rather a very large massage chair of a singularly sinister nature. It came in the middle of the night, with no note attached, and has remained in our living room ever since.

When I mentioned my anxiety over its arrival to my favorite mssr., he smirked slightly and said, "How can it be bad if it gives massages?" I tried hard to emulate his confidence, but the chair's horrific appearance and brooding, oppressive presence soon sunk my spirits anew.

Let me take a minute to describe this monstrosity. Its upholstery is stitched together, patchwork-style, out of jagged strips of a dark brown leatherish material. It has two button-like protrusions that resemble unblinking yet sightless eyes. Its midsection is comprised of a series of rollers that might adequately be compared to the abdominal musculation of a mummified bodybuilder.

Taken as a whole, it gives the living room an eerie "Silence of the Lambs" vibe. Also, Maddie claims that it smells (Lauren and I have yet to notice an odor). For fear of waking whatever demon lies dormant inside, I've taken to tiptoeing around the house. If you or someone you know is qualified to perform exorcisms on inanimate objects, please do not hesitate to contact us so that we may, as quickly as possible, restore a sense of normalcy to 22 Diamond.