A long long long long time ago in a galaxy far far far far away tables come alive and seek revenge on the carpenters that made them and the master carpenter m.j. pizza what will she do probably disappear like every other character that is threatened like obi kentable, and master lumoda....
And that was written by a friend of mine, who is obsessed with Star Wars and didn't bother using the shift key. And also gave me the attractive last name of Pizza. Well done, friend, well done.
At any rate, the furniture really has been striking back. So far this week, I've been attacked by a Mexican table and stabbed by a piano bench, and I'm just waiting to trip over the dishwasher. (Okay, so there's a hinge hanging out of the front of our piano bench. Don't ask about the table. I'm not sure how it happened, either.)
I can't help but look at my furniture now and think, "The hate is strong with this one." Why? Is G-Force based in reality or something? I mean, my hand took forever to stop bleeding after the Mexican table incident. Was it trying to poison me? Or kill me via exsanguination?
And the piano bench--it wasn't trying to cut off my leg, was it? Because that's the leg I use for the sustain pedal, and maybe it's tired of being stepped on. I wonder if all the furniture is plotting its own Order 66, trying to exterminate everyone who's ever used it....
In which case, the Vikings, who only had tables and the occasional low stool, would be pretty safe from attack. But not us. We're Americans, hallelujah, and whether that means nightstands or pointless sofa tables, we're going to fill our houses with furniture.
So be on your guard. You have been warned. Flee to the Outer Rim. Get a hacksaw while you're at it. Furniture is out to kill us, and we must outwit it. So be safe, dear readers, and tell me of any suspicious activity in the comments. God bless, and may the force be with you.
M. J. Piazza is a Jesus-loving, dog-walking country girl who just so happens to write books.