September 16, 2008 by Marj Hatzell
Once Upon a Time, Prince Darling lived in a Kingdom far away from the Princess Queen DG. They hadn’t met yet, but the planets would one day align and fireworks would happen and cupid’s arrow would eventually strike, but wait, I’m getting there.
Anyways, Prince Darling lived in an apartment with his Mother, Sister, Mother’s friend and roommate and a few cats. His mother was just divorced for the second time and she left her children with Grandma for two years and finally Grandma called and said, “Hello? Come and get your kids, maybe?” and so Prince Darling’s mother moved them into a three bedroom apartment castle. The irony is that Prince Darling’s mother once owned the apartment castle, but sold it to get out of debt. Then she ended up renting it. She could have lived rent-free, but her financial decisions are a different story for a different day. Anyways, the apartment castle. Three bedrooms, four people. Which meant that the three women all got their own bedrooms. Prince Darling? He slept in a hallway/porch that everyone else walked through to get to their own rooms, so he had abso-smurfly no privacy. He was a teenaged boy, y’all.
When he moved into the hallway, his mother went shopping at the one place she could afford (well, she could afford a different place but she wanted style as well as a bargain), the Kingdom of Ikea. Now, in Ikea it was rumored you could eat awesome meatballs and potatoes in between comparing bed linens and chairs named thinks like Sleepdanik and Komfort. So Prince Darling’s mother bought him THE BED that he’d live in for the next ten years, give or take. He was thirteen at the time. A few years later they all moved back into the grandmother’s house castle and THE BED came with him.
Even when Prince Darling met the Queen, he still had THE BED. They moved in together and got married (yes, they lived in sin for a while) and they still had THE BED in their den, even though the Queen tried with all her might to wrestle the dreadful, beat-up, uncomfortable, fake-wood-mdf-foil-covered bed away from the Prince. He needed it, he said. It was all he had from his childhood. The Queen figured it doubled as a guest bed anyways (it had a trundle) and so she relented, figuring that they’d get rid of it once they bought their first house castle. And so they moved a few years later and…
THE BED came with them. Not only did THE BED come with them, but they didn’t have a real bed to speak of, only a mattress on the floor, and so Prince Darling spent many nights sneaking down the hallway to sleep in THE BED in the guest room. Eventually, they began a family and when they set up the baby’s room, THE BED was shoved into the computer room. The Prince and the Queen had a yard sale before the baby was born and the Queen was convinced that THE BED would go out there, along with all of the other white-foil-mdf-pieces-of-junk with names like Revcik and Sultana. The Prince was not amused. The Queen was not amused. THE BED stayed.
Three years later the Prince and the Queen had TWO Princes and were running out of room. They bought a new house castle in a neighboring school district and had a yard sale before they moved. You guessed it. THE BED was not included in the sale. And every year the new Kingdom has a Borough Yard Sale and folks come from miles around to celebrate and make one man’s trash another man’s treasure and the bed did not make it out into any of the yard sales. One day, the Prince took a vacation day and the Queen and Prince decided to gut the basement and rearrange everything. THE BED was down there since they moved into their new castle and ocassionally the Prince ended up sleeping it, which did not amuse the Queen but amused the Prince greatly. As they moved THE BED the Queen sighed. The Prince suddenly said, “Go open the door in the back of the basement. I’ll carry it out to the trash.” Then the Queen died. And when she came back to life, she picked her jaw off the floor and saw pigs flying by the window. And then she ran as fast as she could so THE BED would get the *$%# out of her house as quickly as possible.
THE BED is now a distant memory, although now the Prince ends up sleeping on the beat-up, nasty, smelly blue couch that they bought before kids. This isn’t any couch. This is special. It reclines, it plugs in, it massages and has heat. In other words, it was a total impulse buy from a now-defunct furniture store and the Queen hates detests despises loathes dislikes it very much. Not only is it uncomfortable to take a nap on but it is falling apart, rickety, heavy, smelly and the material is worn through nearly to the padding underneath. The Queen has been lobbying hard to get rid of it and use a set of furniture currently in the living room that they do not use. But, you guessed it, the Prince will not let it go. Even though it is beat to heck and she is embarassed for others to see it. Even thought they don’t like it at all. Even thought the kids have puked or peed on it and she has steam-cleaned it more times than she’d like to admit. Even though there was just a yard sale. The Prince is NOT READY to give up THE COUCH. Sigh. The Queen is not amused. But at least she got him to agree to put the Living Room set into the Family Room and stick the ugly, smelly, beat-up blue reclining couches into the basement, where she seems to have more luck getting rid of things.
Or is it, to be continued?