It proved quite interesting when reality took a turn.
One would think that the world was turning on its head, no sufficient space to keep both thinker and thoughts. Imagine waking up one morning to find your chair scolding you for all the times you draped your stinky clothes atop it so that it thought it was sick enough to warrant a medical visit.
Well, isn’t it about time I went back to sleep, you would think? Chairs couldn’t talk and if they could, I think I would be the one scolding them for even existing. They were the only reason that sitting in classrooms made sense.
They were the only reason sitting was even a thing.
Then again, I could only think that because there was no chance I would ever listen to a chair talk.
Or so I thought, because before my very eyes were my chair and my laptop, engaged in animated discussion. It was on me, and I believe they only did so because they assumed I was sleeping. My chair was complaining to my laptop that I was too selfish. Apparently, I never let it watch all the movies on it or all the other fun things that humans used their eyeballs to see on the screen. Bolstered by my laptop’s support, it went on a rant about what went down when my little cousin came for a visit last week. He had farted on it and so, it wanted to sue for health endangerment. If there were human rights, there had to be chair rights, it insisted, pride in its tone.
But you are poor, the laptop pointed out, and the chair got angry at that statement. It believed that the laptop was discriminating against poor chairs and wanted to sue it as well as their owner, who never took it out for strolls. When it got out of here, it was going to work hard towards becoming Pinocchio, its mentor. It was going to be more Pinocchio than Pinocchio, Pinocchio 2.0, brand new Pinocchio-with-the-drip. It wasn’t sure the reason for his shifty nose, though. The nose had to be untrustworthy, like their owner.
That’s plastic surgery, the laptop pointed out.
Why thank you, laptop, but I am still going to sue you.
