Jimmie's Chicken Shack, High

Well it seems pretty soon here I will be getting a new couch and chair for my living room.

Yeah, sounds real exciting doesn't it.

I tell this tale in this entry, for which I shall talk about the hell that is my couch.

I bought this couch and chair, used, the first week I moved into the apartment I am in now. Well, being that I purchased them from a place that was only a block and a half away, I figured with a friend and me, we could just carry them over to my apartment, no need to get a truck or anything.

Oh I'm just packed full of body enriching wisdom here aint I. If it isn't advious enough, adviously my first problem was thinking it would be that simple.

Nay I say, it be not that simple.......it be a royal pain in my ass is what it turned out to be.

First off, it was the middle of summer when this happened. Now since I live in Michigan, it may get hot here, but not you take two steps and you are suffering from heat stroke kind of hot. Well the day I decided to do this, turned out to be the first day of a heat wave that reached something around hundred and six degrees out there with a thousand percent humidity.

The kind of heat that you sweat when you breath to hard, but the humidty is so thick you have to take deeper breaths.

Yeah, thats not a good start.

When I first saw the matching couch and chair, I was preaty happy with my purchase. I only paid like fourty bucks for the pair and they didn't seem all that heavy. I'm thinking after I left, they dug out all the springs and cushions out and filled it with cinder bricks and blocks of lead.

To put a let more straight forward....it was FUCKING HEAVY AS HELL!

So there we where, carrying this couch roughly the weight of a volvo in the middle of the worst heat and humidy that summer.

To say I was mildly sweating would be like saying the Mississippi River is a trickle of water. About three steps out doors with that couch, it looked like some one dumped a bucket of water on my head every other step I took.

The thing is, no matter how hard you try, you just can't look cool carrying a couch down the street. It some how inheriently pushes you into that "white trash" bracket. It doesn't help that it looked like I had just stepped out of a pool after diving in it fully clothed.

So I said fuck looking cool, I'm fucking roasting here. This was the first time I have ever suffered from heat stroke in my life. I thought I had been hot in the past, but that day made wearing a parka in a sauna as mildly chilly.

So on the verge of spewing up whatever liquid that was left in my body, we had to stop several times on the way to my apartment. Though I'll tell yeah, if you can stand the constant sweating and the severe back pain, there are real benifits to carry around a sofa with you. Just think about it, anywhere you stop, you got yourself a seat right there with you. Getting tired of walking, well set that couch down on the curb and just chill there for a awhile as you watch normal people cruise by in there cars giving you strange looks.

Well it sounded good in theory at first.....but unfortunely it works out to be the equivelent of white trash "lets have our house be in a trailer, we can move it anywhere we want to".

So about 65% of my water secreting out of every pore on my body, we managed to get the couch to the buttom of my stairs.

My stairs, a step ass climb even without carrying around furniture with you, hell one step at a time when you are. Just to the left of the top stair is the door way that opens up into the room that contains the front doors of the three apartments up here. So we are talking about a preaty sharp turn here, especially when you are dealing with a seven food couch in a five foot wide stair well.

Now here is another fact I didn't become intimately aware of tell the day I tried squeezing my couch through that door way. The ceiling above the stairs, didn't follow the incline of the stairs. So at the bottom of the stairs, the ceiling is roughly twenty feet up, the higher you go the closer the ceiling got, tell at the top of the stairs you could touch the celing flat footed.

So the couch is longer then it is tall at the top of the stairs, along with a sharp ninety degree turn to get in.

I lead the couch through the door way first, as my friend stayed on the stairs, holding up the other end. So within seconds that couch is firmly wedged between the far wall and the door frame. Well that didn't work, so we try pushing up the back end to angle it a little better. Now the damn thing is tuck in the door way, the back wall, and the ceiling.

Another fact about this couch, it has an extremely high back on it. The tallest friend I have, who stands at six foot six, couldn't even get his head barely above the back when sitting in it.

So its a cramped space with a very long couch with a really high back. So I start thinking I'm going to need a PHD. in engineering to unwedge this couch then get it through the door way.

So as I'm trapped in the hall since we can't move the couch anymore, I then had an urge from hell to piss. As if my body hasn't depleted itself enough of my life givng fluids, now I got piss like a freakin race horse.

I tell you, I was two minutes of sweating from pissing dust, I was that badly dehydrated.

Though despite this, me taking a bathroom break turned out to be to my advantage. As I was standing there, my phone rang. Turns out a friend was calling looking for someone else, hoping they would be at my place. No they are not, but you could be a buddy and help me get my big ass couch surgically unwedged from the tight sphinchter that is the top of my stairs.

My charming words and a strong hint of desperation in my voice, and five minutes later I could hear there voice on the otherside of my couch.

So now there is three of us, and we finally manage to unwedge the couch, only to turn at an angle we thought would work, just wedging the couch in a much more akward angle. Ten minutes of prefusely sweating, grutning, and cursing nastly under my breaht, we finally call a fourth friend to help out.

I don't know how this guy did it, but some how he either shrunk the couch, widened the door way when I wasn't looking, or pulled off some kind of voodoo shit, but he managed to find the ONE angle the couch could be put in that would pop it on through.

I just about passed out with giddiness when that fucker finally moved its way into the front hall.

Luckily for me, my front door is a straight line to the kitchen and a very wide path to the doorway to the living room. So no more problems ensue.........BUT, I still have to get that damn chair.

I was about ready to say fuck it, let them keep that shitty chair, I'm passing out dude.

Well about two gallons of water and sitting on my couch for about a hour, I finally managed to build up the strength to get the chair.

By this time I had lost my two new "volunters" and was back to me and my buddy getting the chair.

Being that this was much smaller then the couch, and I really can't stand the jerking steps you take when moving a piece of furniture with someone else, I got the novel idea of carrying it on my head.

I have really strong neck muscles so this was a snap to carry it like that. All I had to do was flip it upside down, and place the seat of on my head as the arms come down past my shoulders and the back of the chair presses on my back. As long as I didn'g try wiggling my head back and forth like a sista on Jerry Springer, I was doing alright.

Except for one fatal flaw to the plan. Carrying a chair like this is sort of like wrapping your head in a big ass quilt, creating a heat and humidty within the confines of the chair properly suited for a green house full of tropical plants. On top of this, despite the big opening in front of me, it seemed to cut off half my air suply.

So I'm pretty much delirious from the heat stroke heat stroke, getting visuuals like I have just eaten a ten strip of acid.

And I thought I looked like an idiot carrying a couch down the street. Doesn't even compare to carrying around a large ass chair on my head like its some crazy new fashion trend.

Good thing my friend was there......he was heavily burdened by carrying the cushion of the chair, I could almost feel sorry for the S.O.B., that cushion must have weighed a ton.

But, kidding aside, he had to be my eyes and ears seeing that a chair enguling your head makes it just about impossible to see that car barlowing down the street, or hear its honking horn.

A grand total of four hours of struggling, and losing my body weight in water, I came to a very simple conclusion.

My fucking couch sucks.

Oh I must have been dilusional or just didn't sit in the right spots, but little did I know that the boards holding up the middle of the couch dig into your ass if you sit somewhere in the middle of the couch. Not to mention taking a nap on it is something a kin to a midevil touch device....the almighty back wrencher.

A two hour nap on that thing, I started off with a farely straight spine, then woke up to it being twisted like a pretzel.

So now, I'm finally finding a replacement to that shitty couch. Which means I got to find a way to get it back down those stairs once again.

But, since I'm just throwing it away, its no longer fit to be anything but kindling, I have a very simple plan on how to get it out.

STEP ONE: Clear everything away around the couch.

STEP TWO: Find axe and go at that couch like Jason Forees at a couple fucking in the woods.

STEP THREE: Toss reminents of the couch out my freakin window.

There it is, my master plan.

I'm thinking I'm going to enjoy this a little to much.

Since that story about my couch was about as funny as watching a hemroid comercial, I'll give you a bit of a flashback piece right now.

Now Spanky, my bass playing friend, a quite a few years back ago, owned a Savanah Monitor. Now at the time he bought it, the lizard wasn't much longer then his forearm.

He named it Spike and kept it in a small fish aquarium. It was preaty cool then, small and managable and you feed it a few flies a day. Except for it upchucking flie innards in the tank once and awhile, the eating it back up, Spike was a preaty cool lizard.

Then about a few months later, I cough this special on animal planet about the Savanah Monitor. It turns out in full growth, these things get to be about seven to nine feet long, and its favored meals are.....anything that struggles. I watched a regular sized one, about eight feet long, take down an elk the size of a good sized horse. Aparently it has enough power in its jaw to snap the elk's neck in half. Not only that, but part of its defense is its tail, which is even more powerfull then its jaw. By six months to a year old, a Monitor can snap your leg muscle liked dry wood with its tail.

Well needless to say, I was a bit weary with Spike the bigger he got, especially when he was in a pissy mood. When Spanky started feeing it whole mice, Spike would slash his tail around at him. Since it was just over a foot long, it wasn't powerfull enough to snap any bones, but it sure left one hell of a bruise.

Many months later, I finally go over to Spanky's place rather him coming to mine. So I hadn't seen how big Spike had gotten. I also didn't know that Spanky constantly let Spike just roam freely through the apartment.

So I go in unaware Spike is hiding out under the couch. I didn't find this fact out later tell I saw his head poke out from between my legs looking around. I just about shit my pants when I saw that. Spike by that time was three and a half feet long, and one big ass mamma jamba.

So there I am squeling like a little girl letting off a small, nervous fart as Spike slowly crawls further out from under the couch. Nearly popping an embulism from laughing so hard, Spanky finally told me, "oh yeah, Spike is under the couch dude."

Well fuck you very much!

Jesus christ, I nearly had a heart attack right there.

After a point I calmed down enough to stop shaking like a heroin addict suffering through the D.T.s, and stopped insisting someone call my mommy in a pleading voice.

I even became comfortable enough with the lizard moving around, that I stopped paying attention to where it was going....tell about two hours later.

I look over by the front door and there is Spike standing stock still. So I stare at him wondering what the fuck is he doing. At first I thought Spike was going to make a mad dash for under the couch, but as I kept watching he didn't move. Then Spike started slowly raising his ass up in the air.

What in the fucking world is he doing........HOLY FUCK BALLS!!!

A fact at that time I didn't know, Savanah Monitors projetile shit and piss at the same time.....which was what Spike was doing at that time.

My god the noise it made was undescribely the nastiest sound I have ever heard in my life. Imagine combining the sounds of your worst diariha, juicy shit, with the sounds of you hurling so hard you almsot feel your shoes come up your throat. Now amplfy that combined noise by ten, nasty levels. That would be a tiny fraction as disguting of a sound as it would Spike shitting/pissing like Linda Blair spewing out green pee soup.

And the smell! My god, I can't describe that either, and its better I don't try if you care to keep your lunch from two years ago down. The smell was enough to make you hurl while your eyes water prefusely and your ears bleed.

So there sits the nastied smelling pile of steaming shit I have come across my entire life. A big, liquid pile of partially digest mouse innards with a river of yellow piss flowing around it.

And I had front row seats to the entire even, while starring at the point of exit in confusion.

Now a friend of mine sitting next to me only heard the noise Spike made, but he didn't even witness the unholy sight that was Spike's shit spewing out his ass.

I have been permently scarred mentally from this encounter with monitor excrementing. Forever that smell and that sound will travel in my head.

Some nights I wake up in a cold sweat, screaming my head off...

"DON'T SHIT ON ME SPIKE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Never again will I wonder why the hell a lizard is slowly raising its ass in the air...for now on I'm running screaming from the room, covering my ears as I scream "LA LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

Yep......I'm fucked for life and I blame Spike the shitting machine.

It's about time - Wednesday, Jul. 07, 2004
An Honor for Chrome - Friday, Feb. 20, 2004
A great loss - Monday, Oct. 20, 2003
a terrible announcement. - Tuesday, Sept. 09, 2003
Chrome speaks: - Friday, Sept. 05, 2003