[ WP ] The chair you 're sitting on talks back .

I switched on the television and curled up in the most comfortable armchair, right back in the corner. The fire was roaring merrily in the grate, and I had a bag of mints in my hand. This was going to be a good night. 
 
 Popping a mint into my mouth, I switched on *Doctor Who* and sat curled up on the armchair. Before long, I had swallowed the sweet. I reached into the bag on the armrest to get another. But it slipped from my fingers and fell down the side of the cushion. 
 
 I sighed and reached down to retrieve it. 
 
'Woah, buy me dinner first, honey,' said a voice from below me. 
 
 Eye wide, I looked around, but there was no-one there.'Hello?' I said, my voice trembling. 
 
'Down here,' said the voice again. I looked down at the chair. There was no space beneath it; no-one could be hiding under there.'Are you in the chair?' 
 
'I *am* the chair,' said the voice.'And I would pull my hand out of there as quickly as possible, if I were you.' 
 
 I hurriedly retracted my hand and went to get up off the chair, but the voice stopped me.'Hey, there's no need to go!' it said.'Just be careful where you're sticking those pretty fingers of yours.' 
 
 Intrigued, I sat down again gingerly.'Chairs ca n't talk,' I said, despite the evidence to the contrary. 
 
'Well I can and I am,' said the chair.'So you're wrong.' 
 
'But you're just an object!' I said desperately.'A piece of furniture!' 
 
'Look, if I had the choice, I would n't be a chair,' said the chair with a hint of hurt in its voice.'If I *had* to be a piece of furniture, I'd want to be a bed or something. That's where all the real action happens.' It chuckled to itself. 
 
'Sorry, I did n't mean to offend you,' I said apologetically. 
 
'None taken,' said the chair.'I'm used to this now. Having people sit on me is slightly more interesting than being, say, a wardrobe in the spare bedroom. At least here I get to see and hear interesting things.' 
 
'Well, that's good, I suppose,' I said, not knowing how to react to this. I mean, I was talking to a *chair*, for God's sake. What were you meant to talk about? Cushions? 
 
'You have the most comfortable buttocks, by the way,' said the chair.'So small and... perfect. It's like having an angel sitting on me.' 
 
'Thanks, I guess,' I replied. Was I being chatted up by an armchair? 
 
'Anyway, you probably want to get back to your programme,' said the chair.'Do n't mind me, it's like I'm not even here.' 
 
 I nodded slowly, then curled up in my original position and focused on the television. After a few moments, I noticed a rubbing sensation on my back and buttocks. The chair was massaging me. And it felt awesome. Smiling to myself, I settled down for a long night in. 
 
 I could get used to this.
