Wednesday, June 22, 2022

And Now The Story Of Chairs And An Unsatisfiable Ass

Rennington Crestonrail had had a storied forty-three year rein as one of the world’s most accomplished and successful master chair makers.

His chairs had won awards, been featured on the cover of Chair Weekly AND Chair Fortnightly (now weekly), and were so magnificent some even had won prized spots in art galleries around the world (causing many an art fan of all ages to ghasp “why the fuck is there a chair here, I thought this was an art gallery for fuck sake”).

Yep Crestonrail was at the absolute top of his profession. Then one day a man named Arnold Bonnybott appeared at his door, with tears streaming down his face…

“Can I help you sir?” asked Rennington politely and with concern.

“I sure do hope so” replied Arnold “you see my dear Rennington, I have travelled, uncomfortably I might add, around the world to see you, for I have a problem, I have never once found a chair that could satisfy my rotund and yet somehow also skeletal posterior, can you help, please?”

A smile came over Rennington’s face. Then he snickered out loud. Then he apologized “of course young man” he added with glee, “there is no ass I can’t satisfy”.

He confidently set to work. First he went into his store room and pulled out examples of some of his finest chairs through the years — The Executive Wingback, The Dancing Klismos, The Rennington Ironback, The Cone Of Desire, The Slingbacked Eames, The Ball Of Sink, The Stone Cold Chaise Lounge, The Deep Throned Bouncer, The Horizontal Leg Based Stool Of Prospect and dozens of others with just as cool sounding names, which I just haven’t mentioned due to time restraints, not because I, your narrator, have run out of names I know, I promise.

Sadly none of these chairs went even close to satisfying Arnold’s Ass.

Unperturbed, inspired even, Rennington went to work, he studied Arnold’s ass, he took tissue samples from his ass flesh, he made three dimensional models of his ass shape, he watched his ass, he looked at his ass, the stared at his ass, Arnolds ass became his obsession, and at the same time prototype after prototype poured out of Renningtons workshops — The Arnold Asserartor, the Wingback Asshelp, The Soft Bottom Ass Softener, The Arnoldassfix, The Magnificant Bottomasser, The Flinghorned Asscradle, The Asswide AssSoul, The Facefirst Assingnorer, and dozens of others, which also had great names, most of which included the word “ass” in them, and which again I am only not saying due to time restraints, I can name ass chairs till the cows come home, watch this Cowhide Asschair, see I know them ALL.

Yet, time and time again, Arnold would sit, he’d slump, he’d lay, he’d shift his weight, he’d wriggle his ass, and yet his ass would remain completely unsatisfied.

No longer unperturbed, and instead SUPER perturbed, Rennington turned to history. He turned to the masters of the craft over the centuries of the chair.

Masters like The Baron Von Chairingon, Lumber Horks iii, Hurst Le Hozidavert, and even the original master Svenson Chairsoot, “all hail his name, his legend speaks for itself” Rennington said out loud as he lit candles around his great shrine in the outskirts of Uppsala Sweden — it had of course been Chairsoots early stools that allowed the Vikings to sit down on voyages and ultimately made them much calmer, ultimately resulting in the more reserved and regal Scandinavians we know today.

“If he could tame the ass of great hordes of savage Vikings, then surely I can find a way to calm the ass of my own disgruntled Arnold” he said trying to motivate himself, but records of the event later revealed it to be a cry for help. (All activity near the shrine is recorded to try and prevent ravenous fans breaking in and sitting on the great Stool Of Forever which is the centerpiece of the shrine and said to hold the souls of thousands of satisfied Viking ass cheeks — some say if you sit on the shrine you can opposite fart Viking souls into your own ass cheeks, others say if you get within a foot of it a guard dog will have removed both you ass cheeks faster than a cloud dissolves in a gluttonous volcano).

Still no answers came Rennington’s way (he did get to see a punk kids ass chewed off by a couple of German Shepard’s though — he had dedicated his life to ass care, but he still found it really funny).

He was no longer super perturbed, he was more perturbed than King Perturb of the Purturb Family, and this only made Rennington MORE perturbed, when he remembered that the Perturb family throne was renowned around the Purturban region of East Purturbia as the best throne in the WHOLE castle — a contract Rennington himself had lost out on to his great rival Roger Laz-E-Boy.

Rennington broke at that moment. He offered Arnold his money back, but Arnold reminded him that he’d never actually paid him anything, and upon consultation with his accountant he was told not only was this true, but his many failed prototypes had left him on the verge of bankrupt.

Upon hearing this devastating news, grasping at straws, Rennington asked his accountant “you’re still happy with the Ergonomic Crestonrail Lavish Contentment Chair I gifted you right?” And the accountant had to tell the truth “actually I switched to an Aeron Chair a few years ago, have you tried one, they’re awesome”.

Later that week Rennington was institutionalized. Some say he is just gathering his thoughts before his big come back, he has plans to turn entire floors into chairs, they say, maybe the entire world into chairs! Others say his chair life is finished.

Definitely Art

What is known for sure though are these three facts:

1. Arnold’s ass is still unsatisfied

2. Rennington has designed some of the best fucking chairs in the history of the world, including, but not limited to — The Cantilever Of Imagination Prospects, The Manchette Excelsior, The Footrest Magnificant, The Meshbacked Goliath, and even the Bean Chair of Baggles.

3. Yep, I told you I could still name cool chair names, consider this narrator INFORMED.

Ps. Why DO they sometimes put chairs in art galleries, they’re just chairs for fooks sake.

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