Friday, May 20, 2005

Loon's Poetry Corner featuring 'Ode To My Missing Chair'

Ode To My Missing Chair

My chair is gone.
And in its place is a an imposter.
Did they think I wouldn't notice
that an inferior chair has taken my baby's place?
Did they think my ass was that stupid?
Nay! Nay, my ass says! I will not be fooled!
I will not be placated by this poor excuse for a chair.
If it can even be called that.
My chair, my real chair, is perfect.
Perfectly molded to the contours of my backside.
It's like the chair and my back were meant to be together.
Meant to interact with each other day in and day out.
It was... kismet.
But this new chair?
It's a horrible, horrible nightmare!
The seat slopes down.
The back slopes backwards.
Where's the support?
Where's the love?
Do they expect me to carry on like this?
Without the proper sitting arrangements?
Where's the support?
Where's the love?

I really can't work like this. I can't sit all day in this chair. It's already uncomfortable. Maybe its all in my head, the 'already uncomfortable' part. But still, this chair is, and I rarely like to use this term but it is completely necessary in this instance, RETARDED.

Someone stole my chair, the comfiest chair I've found in this place (aside from the really spiffy ones management gets), and they put this retarded chair in it's place. Why couldn't they just take this one? It's fine for their temporary purposes.

Because I found my chair. It's being used by some visiting guest. Like they need it. Bah!

I wasn't going to look for it. I wasn't going to be that crazy person who went into every office, interrogating all the employees, mumbling about how I was going to 'set the building on fire' if they didn't give me back my stapler... er, chair.

So I planned this quick yet subtle recon mission. I got up from my desk to throw an empty water bottle and a bunch of old paper work into the recycling bins (one bin for each item). I peered into offices as I walked past and that's when I spotted it. My chair. In the office next to the recycling bins. Being used by someone I've never seen before. A visitor of some sorts. I recognized the chair because its got a big ass star shaped masking tape sticker on the back of it.

Dude, if you're going to steal a chair, steal one that's not so easily identifiable.


I was tempted to yell out, 'Hey that's my chair!!! Give it back you big chair-stealing-meanie you!!!' But I didn't. Because I'm calm and professional like that. I'll just wait until the guy leaves and then go steal it. Because I am sneaky and cowardly like that.


This sucks. I can't believe they took my chair when there are three other perfectly okay chairs in this little cubicle valley o' mine. My desk is the only one that looks like its inhabited. Why didn't they leave my chair alone?

Rat thieving bastard!!!

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