Julie's Furniture

Julie woke up about 10:00 pm. It had been another stress-filled crazy hectic day and all she’d managed on getting home from work was to pick up the note off the kitchen table and then crash on the couch. She didn’t remember leaving a note for herself, but these days that didn’t mean much.

Her stomach rumbled in disapproval as she pushed herself up on her elbows and stared bleary-eyed at the note. Let me guess, she thought, I have to buy toilet paper. But it wasn’t; it was an actual letter. She skipped past the blithery part at the beginning and got right to the meat of it.


I find this very hard to write, dearest Julie. I understand that you are very busy at work and have little time for me, but I must deliver an ultimatum. Come back to me, Julie; the sofa does not love you as I do, he does not pine to feel your comfortable weight on his pocket coils. He doesn’t even have pocket coils! Come back to me dearest! Let me fold you in my warm blankets! Let my comforter be your comforter! Please lie again with me and whisper your secrets into my pillow. Let me massage your muscles while balancing my firm support with the soft caressing of your sensuous curves. Mister Humm is waiting in the bedside table, batteries fresh and charged. We shall make a threesome; just please sleep with me again and I will prove that I am all the bed you shall ever need. Or tell me, and I shall go and find some tawdry motel, and hence be out of your life.


Julie blinked. Is my bed propositioning me? I suppose I should sleep there; it’s better than the couch. She dropped the note and went into the kitchen to make a quick snack to stave off hunger until morning. As she worked she found herself starting to warm to the idea. Maybe a night with Mister Humm and a warm soft bed is exactly what I need. Eventually she took her food and retreated to the bedroom for some relaxation.

“Is she gone?” The ottoman seemed anxious.

The hall mirror answered. “She went upstairs, and now she has music playing.”

“Finally! I’m glad the fake letter thing worked.” said the sofa. “I can’t stand when she falls asleep on me. She drools, you know.”

“We know!” piped in the ottoman and the easy chair. “And her snoring keeps all of us awake at night.” The drinking bird nodded, and the coffee table purred. The lamp beamed in happiness.

Just then Julie ran down the stairs wearing nothing but her bunny slippers and flipped off the lamp. In a second she was on her way upstairs again. The TV remote stood up straight in its cup but nobody noticed except the easy chair, who gave a vaguely disgusted sigh.