Jamie’s day had not gone well. He’d woken late, tripped over the feet of the bedroom chair digging out what clothes were still fresh enough to wear again. Hurrying into the kitchen, pulling a sweater over his head, he bumped his hip on a chair on his way to grab a glass of water. No time for breakfast.
The queue at the coffee shop was too long for him to wait and still get to work on time. He had to forego his kick starter and turned about too quickly, tangling with the legs of a stool a thoughtless person hadn’t pushed completely under the bar. He righted himself in time to stop a headlong descent into some woman’s oat milk macchiato and ran the rest of the way.
He’d had to make do with instant – ugh, ugh, ugh – in the office. He must start a petition to have a proper machine installed. All his friends’ offices did.
Jamie took the offending beverage to the desk he happened to be using that week, leaned over to switch the computer on and sat on the desk chair. The adjustable seat shuddered for a second before sliding down the pole and jerking to a spine-jolting stop at the lowest position.
Jamie swore quietly – loud enough for the new intern on the facing desk to grin – and leaned to the side to fiddle with the knob to re-adjust the height. His caffeine free head tipped just a little too far … and Jamie and the chair thudded to the floor.
As his cheek rested, painfully, on the static carpet squares, Jamie refrained from swearing again. The intern – a bright and pretty young woman with a great sense of humour – leaned over him, eyes concerned. Jamie accepted her helping hand and scrambled to his feet.
His mind ran over his morning.
‘Ain’t that a fact,’ he said to the intern, whose name was Jenny. ‘Life’s not a bitch. It’s a chair.’
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LIFE IS A CHAIR
God grew pensive as he surveyed the universe.
There were galaxies, stars and black holes throughout its vast expanse – but not a lot of life.
In fact, the only place he could perceive any was a small planet he christened Earth in a solar system run by a yellow sun.
“Did I create that,” he wondered. “Can’t really remember, I’ve been so busy lately making lots of new heavenly bodies, I tend to lose track.”
God peered a little more closely.
“Well, if that is life down there, I think I should really look after it.”
God pondered how best to take care of this life he had made.
“A cradle, perhaps, to rock it to sleep. No, I know, a chair – that way, it will have somewhere to sit as it grows!”
Without further ado, God clicked his fingers and hurled an extraordinary looking contraption that landed in the Garden of Eden, not far from an apple tree.
“There,” he said. “Let’s see what life does with that.”
Adam woke to find himself sitting on a glorious four-legged structure made of wood covered in the softest velvet.
“How did I get here?” he queried out loud to no one, because he was the only person on Earth, or so he thought.
Then he looked at the apple tree.
A gorgeous young woman walked from its shadows and smiled sweetly at Adam.
“Like an apple?” she asked. “It’s free.”
A voice bellowed from the clouds.
“Hello, down there. Are you life?”
“I don’t know,” replied Adam. “What do you think?”
“I don’t think you are,” said God. “I think that life is that chair – and you’re just sitting on it.”
“Life can’t be a chair,” retorted Adam. “It’s just sitting there doing absolutely nothing.”
“Isn’t that what you are doing?”
“No, I’m eating an apple so I’ll know wrong from right. And I know you’re wrong about that chair.”
And with that he and Eve (for that was her name) picked up the nearest fig leaves and minced off into the sunset.
Should have just had the chair!
Absolutely love this. Hilarious. Great effort particularly as you are not well at the moment 😀
Thank you – I literally had to go and have a lie down afterwards. Feeling much better after a sleep.