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The Chair in Room 218
My life used to be all birds and trees. Then came the darkness. I was chopped, mutilated, and partly discarded. I miss being a tree, and now I have been reborn…as an upholstered chair. I live in room 218 in the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Just because a hotel is nice, does not mean the guests are.
All of the other chairs in the room just love to tell me about how the guy I replaced broke in two, and I believe it. I have been set upon by so many different people; I could tell you horror stories for hours. Like this one chick, Jessica I thought she was nice, until she sat down. Fun fact about Jessica, she is lacto intolerant and loves goat cheese. She would sit in me and then she would get bloated and more bloated, until she started emitting these poisonous gasses. Ugh, I think it’s safe to say I have been scarred.
Now, you may be familiar with what goes on in a Las Vegas hotel room. That’s right… people read. I hate it when the same people that love to read in me are those people that spend most of their time in the Golden Corral. They sit in me without thinking of me. Me who they crush, me who they stink up, and me who they leave butt prints in. It’s so embarrassing when all of the other chairs are smooth, and I have two football sized depressions in me. I have been used and abused, and now I think it’s time for me to take a stand… or um… sit.
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