Is This Chair Taken?
He Said: I love this chair. We bought it about a year ago, and I made one rule: don’t pile it up with junk. Don’t drape your bras and blouses and girlie things all over it. It’s not a stationary bicycle in the rumpus room, people will actually use it. Yes, I believed the rule did not apply to me. This belief was justified. Any time I want to sit in this chair, I first have to haul the stacks, bundles and piles of SheSaid’s junk off it.
The other day, she ran home with a magazine so big, I assumed it was a for some masonry class she’d decided to take on a whim.
She Said: It’s the September Issue! You know, Vogue? They made a movie about it a couple years ago. I think it’s a good sign that after a few skinny-ish years, the magazine is once again big enough to provide hurricane reinforcement if we need it.
He Said: Yes, we should all feel blessed about that. Anyway, this giant tome got lost. Our place is a two-bedroom condo. The magazine, as mentioned, is enormous.
She Said: “Brobdingnagian”.
He Said: What?
She Said: It’s a fictional place in Gulliver’s Travels. Gulliver was constantly tripping in shit in that part of the book. When he was tiny and everything else was huge, he fell into multiple piles of poo. He also sat on the nipple of a giant woman, but hated it because he could see all the veins and hair on her boob.
He Said: You done?
She Said: My university lit prof talked about Jonathan Swift’s excremental vision. Apparently that’s a thing. Plus, he showed us how Gulliver’s Travels starts with a page-long masturbation joke. He was an awesome prof. Now I’m done.
He Said: So you couldn’t find your precious magazine. Your plan? Run back to the store and make up something about fake theft and mistaken identity worthy of Three’s Company. My solution? Go to where I knew it would be:
He Said: And now that I have my chair back, maybe I can sit down and… write my own page-long masturbation joke.
She Said: More like paragraph-long.
