Ken ye well yon Couch of Flesh

(Reprinted from my own email. If you don't like it, tough. I think warning people about this couch is a vital public service.)

Observe:



This is the couch in my boss's office.

I'm sure that, at one time in its long and unpleasant life, this couch might actually have resembled something that a person with taste in furniture might own. The pinkish hue of its leathery flanks may once have been a more vibrant, rich color, before time, multiple butt-landings, and unaccountable scuff marks dimmed its lustre. Its cushions might have been of a more angular shape, not so squashed-down and shapeless, resembling something a surgeon might look at quizzically before passing off to his assistant for disposal. In short--this couch might at one time have looked a lot less like an abused liver with a throw pillow on one end.

I try to avoid sitting on the couch whenever I'm in the boss's office; but sometimes, when there are a lot of people in there for meetings, it's unavoidable. And on one or two of those occasions, I would swear I've felt the couch move.