A Series Of Unfortunate Events

I wrote this about fifteen years ago. Has nothing to do with religion, but with Easter Weekend coming up and my inevitable commentaries, I thought you’d all get a kick out of a little light reading today… Enjoy!

It all started out innocently enough. I was in a thrift store when I came upon a nice blue sofa that I though would compliment the lobby chairs I bought from a hotel. Price tag? $35.00. Not bad, I thought.

Figured all I would need to do was pull the old sleeper sofa out of the living room, dump it in the van and then go pick up the “new” sofa and put it in its place.

This is where everything went wrong… Drastically 

At 4:30 pm I moved my dining room table and chairs out-of-the-way and slid the old sleeper sofa through the dining room and kitchen into the little vestibule by the front door so that I could tip it down and land it right by the rear of the van. Well, apparently either the sofa grew or the doorway shrank. I twisted it, slid it, squeezed it and maneuvered it for half and hour, but it was apparent that THERE WAS NO WAY THIS SOFA WAS GOING OUT THE FRONT DOOR!!!

In the process I broke the ceiling light fixture, tore a hole in the linoleum, ripped off five feet of molding and snapped another piece of molding to where upon its rebound, it slapped my wife in the face, causing some nice scratches. She was not amused, and there went the only help I had.

Well, I slid the sofa back across into the living room, bubbling the carpet up, and decided it would have to go out the back door, which was going to suck because it meant moving a filing cabinet and some other stuff that was blocking the door. Why was the back door blocked? Because to live in the rural south in a trailer park, it’s un-American not to have at least HALF of all fire hazard escape routes blocked.

After much arduous labor, sweat, some blood and several hundred profanities, it was apparent that THERE WAS NO WAY THIS SOFA WAS GOING OUT THE BACK DOOR!!! At least not without moving a computer desk that weighs about the same as a Toyota. It became apparent very quickly that there was no way I was going to move that freaking desk.

Power Tools… 

After I made sure the safety was working on my circular saw, I began cutting away furiously at the couch. I hit metal. Realizing that the combination of a trailer house, sawdust, sparks and a blocked escape route were not in the best interests of my personal survival, I decided to make four small cuts and then proceed to beat the living shit out of the couch with a hammer, mainly to break it down a little more, but mostly for therapy…

I got the back broken down enough to fit through the door, but just as soon as I was pushing it, a support beam on the sofa broke and poked through my cheap aluminum “storm” door. More cursing ensued. I got it out the door as far as I could but was stopped by an extremely heavy immovable object. It became apparent that I was going to have to move that freaking 900-pound desk!

Putting your back into it… 

I braced myself against the back door and put my feet on the desk, thinking that my ability to push nearly a half a ton with my legs would give me an advantage. I pushed as hard as I can and, in true Wile E. Coyote fashion, my back proceeded to start going through the door, leaving a big flat spot on it.

This was clearly not working. I tried another way and inch by inch, sweating blood, we managed to move the desk 11 inches, just enough to get the couch further through the door and straight, which at that time, as if on cue, it got stuck in the doorway. Well, I kicked and hammered with all that was in me and finally, painfully, my house gave birth to an ugly, ripped and busted up sleeper sofa.

Three hours had passed already… 

Off to the dump, we disposed of the offending piece of furniture and proceeded to the thrift shop, loaded the “new” sofa in the van, apologized to the clerk for knocking over several displays while muttering under my breath how utterly stupid it was for the store manager to put the furniture in the BACK of a thrift store with no back door…

I got into the van and discovered the keys were gone. Back into the store for a frantic search for the keys when they were found, inexplicably, hooked to my belt loop. My wife was inexplicably silent, but I could tell she was laughing her ass of with her inside voice. Well, we got the couch home, repositioned the furniture, vacuumed the sawdust and finally finished what turned out to be a five-hour project.

I can tell you with great certainty that I will never buy another sleeper sofa again!


9 Replies to “A Series Of Unfortunate Events”

  1. Cracking up! I myself disposed of a sleeper sofa just a few months ago. I cut it up right in the living room first, including the metal bits with a reciprocating saw. I hate moving furniture.

  2. I thought for sure you would tell me the new one would not fit in the door.
    I’ve had bad days but never yet have I had to butcher a sofa in the house. Fun story.

  3. Im surprised that you didn’t blow out a disk.When i was first married 45 yrs ago, my wifes’ grandmother gave us an old sleeper couch. We lived in different apartments, usually on 2nd floor or 3rd. There were no elevators in those buildings. I grew to hate that fucking thing and i swore i would never own one again.

  4. Over the years, I’ve repeatedly told my soon-to-be-married (male) friends, “If you’re ever in the doghouse and you need to get right with your wife, just offer to move furniture. Works better than flowers or candy. Or even flowers _and_ candy.”

    • And side piece of advice: If you ever need to find your wife and can’t locate her, just settle into the easy chair and open a newspaper. It’s magic.

  5. Wow, you had a really, really bad day. But, now you pass it off as a day outlived, a long time ago.

    Religious brainwash is inflicted upon infants, and they never really escape the influence. They miss the families that disown them. They lose faith in themselves, because everyone they know rejects them. Without guidance they rebel against every rule, instead of clearmindedly choosing those which actually have social value. Like honesty , to never steal so you can be trusted, to never lie, so you can be trusted.

    And the confused go to rehab and prison, or a graveyard. I’m heading toward a cremation, I told my son not to spend a dime the state does not extort from him. Ashes in a landfill.


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