03 December 2011

The Tale of Satan's Coffee Table

It's Saturday and there's a Christmas tree in my house. So I'm going to tell a story about the Space Monkey.

We have a living room (surprise!). In our living room there is a Persianesque rug that is entirely too close to burgundy (it's Cottage Red confound you!) for anyone's good. The rug sits in the midst of our sectional on three sides and the patio door on the fourth side. Nestled in the corner by the patio door is the television home entertainment unit.

But I didn't come here to describe my living room at you.

I describe it so you will understand that the rug occasionally gets bunched up on the entertainment unit. By occasionally, I mean every day because it gets pushed incrementally every time someone sits in the recliner.

We used to have a table on the middle of the rug, but that's now toiling underneath the Christmas tree.

Back when it was still in the middle of the carpet one time, the wife was sitting in the recliner in a reclined position. I decided I would adjust the carpet using my foot.

The Space Monkey fell to pieces.

Needless to say, I was a little surprised because I normally don't get to see her go from normal to lost-her-stuff without me trying. I asked what was wrong.

"Why is the table moving?!"

I let the question wash over me for a moment before I informed her that I was adjusting the carpet with my foot and it was moving the table. Then I demonstrated again.

After I comforted her (because that's the kind and loving husband I am), I was able to discern the reason she lost it so fast.

She thought an evil spirit was moving it.

Anyway, you didn't hear that from me, and I was never here.


  1. Your mom never made you read the book about the Miss America who had a demon of cigarette smoking come into her hotel room through an open window and begin levitating her bed until it was banished in the name of Christ, thereby giving you an irrational fear of self-propelling furniture. I'm just saying.