A Dialogue Between Person and Bed, in the manner of Plato.
Person:
I love you. You are so large and warm and comfortable. I want to lie down in you now.
Bed:
I hate you, you great lumpy, sweating, steaming mass of flesh. Who do you think you are, to come and slip yourself between my sheets and thrash around all night?
Person:
It's so wonderful, after a long, hard day working, eating, and performing various human activities, to come and slip myself into your rectangular embrace.
Bed:
Urgh!! I shudder everytme you waft into the room. If I had a mouth*, I would tell you that YOU STINK. You perspire towards me, then slip yourself into my lily-white sheets, then proceed to propel your way through your dreams by a serious of burps, yawns, and farts. By the time the night is done, I feel less like a bed, and more like a stagnant fen. I hate you.
Person:
You are so accommodating! Not only can you be my place of repose, but whenever she is here, you become a scene of sport, an athletic arena, a circus, an epic stage of history! Oh! And when that is complete, and we like back, you are so gentle with us ...
Bed:
Her? NOT HER!!! As if your lumps and farts and thrashing around are not enough to deal with, I sometimes have to deal with HER as well! Fuck! And not only do you both start exuding pheromones left, right and cdentre, but the way you two flail about - it's as if you want to knock the stuffing out of me!
Is that it? You want to KILL me?
Person:
Truly, bed, you are one of the finest, most elegant, most beautiful things to grace this earth.
Bed:
Do you know what my fantasy is? The secret desire that I dream about? It is that an albino elephant would suddenly and inexplicably storm through the house, smashing you through the floor, before ravishing me and carrying me off to the forests of Mandalay.
But it's never going to happen, is it, because - I'm just a BED, and YOU MADE ME THIS WAY!
Person:
I love you.
Bed:
I hate you.
*But I don't, because I was made that way. And whose fault is that? YOURS - you fucking bastard!
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5 comments:
You give beds a bad name. We must serve our masters. You Western beds have no values anymore.
I'm sad that your bed is such an angry bastard--mine is really sweet and friendly, all, "Vague, come get in me! I have a fluffy duvet!"
OK, sometimes it can get a little creepy when it doesn't want me to get up in the morning, "accidentally" tangling me up in the sheets.
Vague
It could be that my bed is grumpy because I moved recently, and he was a little worried that he was going to be left behind. But believe you me, he has exaggerated to the point of the ridiculous. My night times are nowhere near as lively as he would suggest.
He's just looking for sympathy.
Lies! All lies, I tell you! Do you know what this cretin did in his sleep the other day? Why, he began to eat me! And then he began to jump up and down on my whilst in his underwear and singing Italian madrigals!
This is the madman that I have to put up with!
PS Sir Futon, I must send you some little pamphlets which a friend sent me. They are called 'The Little Bed Book' and 'The Mattress Manifesto'. They will teach you the true meaning of liberty!
I would sooner shove a sword in my springs than read your infidel literature!
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