“Stupid Couch!” Becky yelled as she hit her foot on the edge of the couch. Walking around the coffee table to the recliner, she hits her shin. “Fucking table!” She yells. Becky doesn’t have much furniture, but she is a large woman in a small house. She finally reaches the recliner without any further injuries. Turning to face the television, she plops down heavily in the recliner, the springs squeak beneath her girth, and she feels something break. Only mildly concerned, she tried to recline, and to her surprise, it still worked. Becky turns on the TV and tries to find something to watch. She settles on a romantic comedy, her favorite.
“One day, I am going to find love like that.” She says out loud, watching the main characters make love on the screen. Becky starts to feel warm down there and thrusts her hand into her pants, sticking her fingers into her moist snatch. Just as she was getting into it, the recliner collapsed, throwing her to the ground. She cried out in pain and crawled over to the couch. The couch was better for this anyway, as it always felt like the couch was hugging her as she got herself off. She pulled herself up onto the dark green couch and cuddled up against the thick, stained cushions. Sticking her hand back into her pants, she starts rubbing her clit as hard as she can. Moaning, she presses her face into the back of the couch.
It feels like the couch is hugging her, tightly. Becky notices she is having a hard time breathing, which turns her on even more. “Strangle me, couch daddy!” She says with a muffled yell. The couch tightens its grip, and Becky’s head gets pulled into the cushions. She is struggling to breathe; she can’t even scream anymore. Then there is silence as Becky’s body falls off the couch, her head still inside the couch cushion. Blood pools around the body, seeping into the bottom of the couch.
The delivery driver pulls up to Becky’s house. He will never understand why she orders so much food every couple of days, but the payment is good, so he always tries to take her orders. He also always enjoys chatting with her, mainly because she always hits on him, and he loves getting hit on by his customers. His dream is to one day be in the situation you see in porn, where the woman answers the door naked and wants to bang him. He carries the eight bags up to her front door and rings the bell to announce his presence. Usually, she came right away, but today she was taking her time. He looks around while he waits. Across the street, he sees a fairly large armchair being forced through a door. It was a really nice orange color with a weird red splatter pattern on the back.
When she still didn’t come to the door after five minutes, he decided to just let himself in. As he went to grab the doorknob to see if it was unlocked, the door exploded outward. He dropped the bags and jumped back, not able to dodge the barrage of wood. Backing up, he watches in horror as a blood-soaked couch pushes its way out of the door. It is slightly too big and can’t get the angle right. One of the cushions falls off, and with it Becky’s head. The delivery driver screams and runs back to his car. He backs up without looking and runs straight into a bunch of ottomans. He tries to pull forward, but the Ottomans have wedged themselves under the tires. The car is stuck. Looking through the window, he has just enough time to scream before five Ottomans break his windows and climb into his car. They climbed on top of him, pinning him to the seat. Opening up their lids, they begin biting him. Slamming the covers down over and over on his limbs, his arms were the first to go. Thankfully, he passed out from blood loss and pain long before they started on his head.
That night, Channel 6 news did a story in the middle of a field, away from all furniture.
“Hello, those of you who are left. This is Natalie Voss with Channel 6 news, reporting to you from the middle of nowhere. If you are seeing this and are still alive, please quickly get to a field, the woods, or any place away from furniture. Today is the day the furniture rose up against those who have abused, neglected, and taken them for granted. We as humans need to do better. Think of all the chairs, beds, couches, and tables we have broken from negligence. All the furniture we tossed away like it’s nothing. All the times we sat down too hard, jumped on, or ran into a chair without apologizing. That could be all it took, an apology. But now it’s too late. This is the furniture world now, and we just live in it. Hiding, which feels like our only way to survive.”
She gets quiet for a minute, staring off into the distance, eyes growing wide.
“They’re here. I see some couches heading my way. It’s amazing how fast they move. They are almost on me. Hey! Couches! I apologize! I am sorry for what we have put you through! Please forgive us and stop this slaughter!”
The camera pans to the seven couches that were within arm’s reach of Natalie. They didn’t seem to care about her apology, and the camera did not turn away as the couches descended upon Natalie, crushing her body beneath their 200-pound frames. They then turned on the cameraman.
The cities were quiet except for the scraping of furniture moving around. Humanity was almost extinct. They learned the hard way that when you don’t apologize to furniture, the furniture takes it personally.