LJ Idol - Week 14 - "Confession from the Chair"
Oh, it's you. Haven't seen you in a while. You've grown some since the last time. What's it been, two? Three years?
I have to tell you, it's a relief to only take the weight of a kid your age. Your grandparents, bless them, aren't taking care of themselves like they used to and...well...let's just say the springs in my cushion aren't what they used to be. And your Grand Dad has started wearing those adult diapers, and sometimes...well, I probably shouldn't tell you, or you wouldn't want to sit here.
Your Grand Mom is a bit more gentle of a sit. She tends to leave her yarn here, though. And that attracts that cat.
That caaaaaaaat. Its claws, you have no idea. Look at my armrest, will you? Ripped to shreds. To shreds!!! When I was new, my upholstry felt soft and buttery, and these armrests gave plush support to all who sat. But now...well, you feel them. All torn up by that wretched beast. I feel you, adjusting your arm, trying to find a comfortable place to rest it. I am deeply sorry, but there is none, thanks to those claws.
The creature's done a number on my wooden legs, too. A while back, you could see the carvings my maker took the time to shape into me. They are gone now, whittled away by the cat's need to design her own art. It's much less sophisticated, if I'm being honest.
But at least she's better than that nurse who comes to visit. I don't care for her. She says nice things to your Grand Mom and Grand Dad to their faces, and then she sneaks away in here, whispering awful things into that phone of hers, griping and complaining about her work, about my family. I find myself hoping that she might sit soon after one of Grand Dad's accidents.
Anyway. It's always nice to see you. Listen, I have a favor to ask. They won't be around forever, and I've seen what happens to the others who lose their families...carted out by strangers, never seen again. I don't want that to happen to me.
I know I'm old, I know I've got some stains, and lord knows I could use some work. But you're my family. And maybe...instead of a stranger taking me when they go...maybe you could take me instead?
You don't have to answer now. Just think about it, okay?
Well, enjoy your visit.
Thanks for the sit.
I have to tell you, it's a relief to only take the weight of a kid your age. Your grandparents, bless them, aren't taking care of themselves like they used to and...well...let's just say the springs in my cushion aren't what they used to be. And your Grand Dad has started wearing those adult diapers, and sometimes...well, I probably shouldn't tell you, or you wouldn't want to sit here.
Your Grand Mom is a bit more gentle of a sit. She tends to leave her yarn here, though. And that attracts that cat.
That caaaaaaaat. Its claws, you have no idea. Look at my armrest, will you? Ripped to shreds. To shreds!!! When I was new, my upholstry felt soft and buttery, and these armrests gave plush support to all who sat. But now...well, you feel them. All torn up by that wretched beast. I feel you, adjusting your arm, trying to find a comfortable place to rest it. I am deeply sorry, but there is none, thanks to those claws.
The creature's done a number on my wooden legs, too. A while back, you could see the carvings my maker took the time to shape into me. They are gone now, whittled away by the cat's need to design her own art. It's much less sophisticated, if I'm being honest.
But at least she's better than that nurse who comes to visit. I don't care for her. She says nice things to your Grand Mom and Grand Dad to their faces, and then she sneaks away in here, whispering awful things into that phone of hers, griping and complaining about her work, about my family. I find myself hoping that she might sit soon after one of Grand Dad's accidents.
Anyway. It's always nice to see you. Listen, I have a favor to ask. They won't be around forever, and I've seen what happens to the others who lose their families...carted out by strangers, never seen again. I don't want that to happen to me.
I know I'm old, I know I've got some stains, and lord knows I could use some work. But you're my family. And maybe...instead of a stranger taking me when they go...maybe you could take me instead?
You don't have to answer now. Just think about it, okay?
Well, enjoy your visit.
Thanks for the sit.