Man with Tie in Leather Armchair

Gerard Valz's Story
He had the whole week-end to himself, that was the first time in months, he'd been working hard and gave all his time to the company, his wife and three children were complaining about this and decided to leave the place wednesday afternoon to visit granny in the country.
On saturday morning he went on Royal st. and looked for old furniture in antique shops but didn't buy anything, most idems were fakes anyway. He went to an english restaurant on Burgundy, food was perfect and he ordered a bottle of light Beaujolais to go with it.
Walking back home around 2 O'clock he received a phone buzz from Mrs Jameson,his secretary, he was to report to his office as fast as he could; The boss had a heart attack.
Everything went fast, once in the company's building 10 minutes later, he learned that he was
chosen to be the new boss.
He sat in the fat armchair in his new office and found out it was the piece of furniture he was looking for in the morning.


Mutha's Story
"The balding head is one thing," she thought, "But that tie clip. Jesus. I want to wrip it off him and chuck it across the room."

Carl had, after all been her obligatory "bad boy" fling in college. His once curly hair had hung daringly long in front of his eyes. His lean frame had seemed bound tight under the jeans and leather he wore then. Even his name had seemed tough.

Now, it sounded as if it could only be the name of a guy who looked just like this.

"And my God, that smile...He looks like the meds are kicking in."

She begged her brain to come up with something pleasant to say.

"Nice chair," was what came out of her mouth.


Jamie Dawn's Story
Bob just loved his new Time Travel Chair. Marketed by Sharper Image, it was a steal at only six million dollars.
All weekend long, Bob traveled to the past. He was only an observer and was never able to leave his chair, but BOY did he enjoy he adventures!


Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
Ralph Merton, Assistant Professor of English, gripped the arms of his chair and tried to smile as the guests arranged themselves. It was going to be a tense evening. At the time it had seemed a stroke of genius to get his wife out of his hair and into community theater. But her preparation for the starring role in WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? was taking its toll.


My Story
I was ready to hand him the check, but I hesitated, asking one more time, just to hear that wonderful description again, "And these experiences will be mine alone?"

"Absolutely," he assured me. His concerned look, and shock, at the insinuation that I may have mistrusted the integrity of Life Inc. seemed genuine to me. He went on: "Each and every experience is guaranteed unique and becomes your own personal property upon receipt. We maintain that the moment itself is fleeting, gone irretrievably before you can even begin to savor it. So who needs it? The true pleasure comes in the reliving of it, in which case the memory will only be as vivid as the words expressing it. As I've said, we employ the best creative talent in the industry. You will not regret having done business with us."

Satisfied, I turned the check over to the representative. He stood up, retrieved my folder from the filing cabinet, then placed the check along with the papers I had filled out: the exhaustive personality tests, three of them, the twenty-page fantasy checklist and that massive preference profile. It had been an entire tedious day working through those. I looked at him to see what he would do next. He entered some words into the computer, clicked the mouse a few times, and soon the printer began humming. A moment later he handed me the printout.

"Now this is your profile confirmation. The url is at the top of the page. Please note the user id and password," he said, pointing to the line in question, "You'll need these to answer the comments you receive. You're ordering the basic service, so you will have to make your own comments, but please remember, you may at any time opt for the premium service, in which we offer the increased intensity that accompanies full passivity. But you may make that choice at any time you wish."

He smiled, I thanked him and left, exiting the office like a new person. It was such an exhilarating feeling, knowing my life had just begun. I could hardly wait to return to my apartment, curtains drawn, lights low, the warm glow of the monitor showing me my first post at the blog. "Read it three times, carefully," the instructions said, "closing your eyes a few minutes after each reading, to impress the vivid language into your psyche. As time passes, the content will be indistinguishable from an authentic memory."

I set the blog url as my default start page, so that it would be right there whenever I switched on the pc. Then I saw: those people certainly work fast. The first post must have appeared as I was on my way home. I read the words, my introduction to the world, the new me, the me I would live and remember. I was 23, had just moved to the city, met a girl who fascinated me. I was back from the first night out with her and it had inspired me to start my blog. I read. I read it again and reread. It was all so promising. As I closed my eyes, I could almost feel that Lisa was in the next room, ready to return to me. I replayed the events of our first meeting, those magnetic moments, when eyes lock and silence binds. It was just as the man had promised. I remembered. I could actually remember. And now I waited in the dark, for my next post.