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Seer666 · 01-21-2005, 06:49 AM

The Chair

I had a family once. Two little girls and a loving wife. It wasn't a perfect home, but it was a happy one. Every Sunday morning, I would sit down in my favorite chair, and my youngest one, only 4, would run over with my slippers and the morning paper. She loved doing this for some reason. Some of my friends used to joke with me about how I really wanted a dog and trained her instead. It was nothing like that. One morning she noticed I always like to start my Sundays off with with the morning funnies, and just took it upon herself to make daddy happy. Little things like that are what really make a happy house. Small little things you never think about, but just take for granted. My wife, the most perfect thing on God's earth, would bring me my coffee, the same way every day, two sugars and a kiss. Seemed such a shame to drink the coffee afterwards, and cover the taste of her warm mouth. Later in the day after church, I would go back to my chair, and the whole family would watch TV together, laughing and joking, and just enjoying begin with each other. My eldest daughter, 7, she was, always had to watch Sponge Bob. I hated that show, to be honest, but I loved watching the way her face would just light up when she laughed at that stupid little critter. She was like an angel. Well, they all were. My family of angels. Ah, such a life that any man could wish for. A couple times, after the kids went to bed, me and the wife even made love in that chair. Seems so many memories of mine, so many memories of them, revolved around that chair. So many wonderful, happy, joyous memories, my family, my chair, and me. Life was good. Then came last Monday. Eight in the morning, she had already left to take the kids to school. I was getting ready for another day in the office. I can't say I like my job, but it pays well, and I get plenty of time to be with my family, so I never complain. I just sat in my chair to finish tying my shoes and kill the last of my coffee, when the phone rang. At five past seven in the morning, a drunken diver was driving past the school. He lost control of his car, hopped the curb, and rammed into our family van. My wife was giving the kids one last hug goodbye for the day, and they were standing right next to the van, on the side it was hit from. In that chair, which I had lived so much, I died that morning. Every day now, I come down and sit in it, remembering all the good times I've had in that chair. All the memories wrapped around it, like a blanket on a cold night. Today is Sunday. I went down, and there were no slippers, and no morning paper. I took me a while to really grasp what that meant. I threw the chair out an hour ago. As I said, I died in that chair, my soul withered to nothing in the time frame of one phone call. I think I will finish dieing in bed today. There are to many memories in that chair already.

01-21-2005, 06:49 AM	#43 (permalink)
Seer666 Oh dear God he breeded Location: Arizona	The Chair I had a family once. Two little girls and a loving wife. It wasn't a perfect home, but it was a happy one. Every Sunday morning, I would sit down in my favorite chair, and my youngest one, only 4, would run over with my slippers and the morning paper. She loved doing this for some reason. Some of my friends used to joke with me about how I really wanted a dog and trained her instead. It was nothing like that. One morning she noticed I always like to start my Sundays off with with the morning funnies, and just took it upon herself to make daddy happy. Little things like that are what really make a happy house. Small little things you never think about, but just take for granted. My wife, the most perfect thing on God's earth, would bring me my coffee, the same way every day, two sugars and a kiss. Seemed such a shame to drink the coffee afterwards, and cover the taste of her warm mouth. Later in the day after church, I would go back to my chair, and the whole family would watch TV together, laughing and joking, and just enjoying begin with each other. My eldest daughter, 7, she was, always had to watch Sponge Bob. I hated that show, to be honest, but I loved watching the way her face would just light up when she laughed at that stupid little critter. She was like an angel. Well, they all were. My family of angels. Ah, such a life that any man could wish for. A couple times, after the kids went to bed, me and the wife even made love in that chair. Seems so many memories of mine, so many memories of them, revolved around that chair. So many wonderful, happy, joyous memories, my family, my chair, and me. Life was good. Then came last Monday. Eight in the morning, she had already left to take the kids to school. I was getting ready for another day in the office. I can't say I like my job, but it pays well, and I get plenty of time to be with my family, so I never complain. I just sat in my chair to finish tying my shoes and kill the last of my coffee, when the phone rang. At five past seven in the morning, a drunken diver was driving past the school. He lost control of his car, hopped the curb, and rammed into our family van. My wife was giving the kids one last hug goodbye for the day, and they were standing right next to the van, on the side it was hit from. In that chair, which I had lived so much, I died that morning. Every day now, I come down and sit in it, remembering all the good times I've had in that chair. All the memories wrapped around it, like a blanket on a cold night. Today is Sunday. I went down, and there were no slippers, and no morning paper. I took me a while to really grasp what that meant. I threw the chair out an hour ago. As I said, I died in that chair, my soul withered to nothing in the time frame of one phone call. I think I will finish dieing in bed today. There are to many memories in that chair already. __________________ Bad spellers of the world untie!!! I am the one you warned me of I seem to have misplaced the bullet with your name on it, but I have a whole box addressed to occupant.