Leaving the Seat Down

by Ling’Ling

I came home this evening to find all the furniture in my house had been rearranged. I was so shocked at first that I failed to notice Bill Gates standing in my living room. Surprised, I inquired politely as to the reason for his presence there. He informed me that he wanted ensure my maximum enjoyment of the Microsoft living room set I had recently purchased. “Great service!” I thought as I moved to sink into the comfy leather sofa, installed just the night before. I was stopped mid-stride towards my destination as Bill held up his hand and cleared his throat, “I’d like to see some identification before you use this Microsoft Furniture, if you’d be so kind. We just need to make sure that you’re the rightful user of this Microsoft product.”

Brushing past him I sank defiantly into the sofa and replied with no small degree of indignation, “This is my home, this is my sofa, and I will certainly not be providing you with any identification!” The sofa had a somewhat harder feeling than I remembered in the store.

“By all means, enjoy your Microsoft Furniture. However, until I can verify your ownership, certain features of your living room set will be disabled. I sincerely encourage you to consider installing an official Microsoft Customer Experience Enhancement unit in your home, in order for you to fully enjoy the benefits of using Microsoft products.”

I looked down to see that I was not sitting in the comfy leather sofa I had purchased, but a lawn chair and my coffee table had been replaced by a wooden crate.

I’m a practical guy. It was late and I couldn’t be bothered to argue with Bill Gates so I showed him the receipt. He was satisfied and so my furniture was returned to its original comfy state.

The novelty of having Bill Gates in my home trumped my indignation at his uninvited presence, so I got up and went to the kitchen to grab us a couple of beers. My pants got caught on a loose spring in the couch and were torn nearly to shreds. The door to my refrigerator wouldn’t open though. Bill informed me that it was a compatibility issue with the air conditioner, but it didn’t matter because he had drunk up all the beer anyway. Strange, I thought, neither the air conditioner nor the refrigerator are from Microsoft.

I moved back to the couch, at which point Bill stopped me again and demanded to see the receipt. I showed it to him and he let me sit down on ‘my’ couch. The arms had fallen off while I was in the kitchen and one of the cushions had caught on fire, but in practice the couch still served the purpose for which it was designed.

Bill informed me that he wanted to determine how satisfied I was with ‘his furniture’ as he kept referring to it. It would only take 10 minutes.  So we began the survey during which he inquired about my financial background, my family, my sex life and my credit card number and so on. Several hours later the ‘customer satisfaction’ survey was complete and I asked if he might see fit to have my couch fixed, what with the burned cushion and the broken arms. Bill handed me a Microsoft screwdriver and told me to fix it myself, it would only take the weekend to do the job. He was busy installing a webcam in my shower and bedroom. When I asked him not to do so he appeared not to understand what I was saying.

At this point I noticed a group of purple imps systematically destroying my kitchen and dining room. According to Bill, half of them had made their way inside hiding in the armchair I hadn’t ordered. The other half he had mistakenly let in the front door. They had, he explained, been wearing official Microsoft uniforms when he answered the door. It was all terribly difficult to understand, he assured me. In consolation, he offered to sell me an official Microsoft Imp Blaster for only $199 (+ tax), which was a deal in comparison to the damage the imps were wreaking on my home. I agreed and Bill installed a massive gun turret in the middle of my living room. It took up well over half of the room.

When he plugged it in, the turret automatically began to blast the imps away, much to my satisfaction. I was quickly disconcerted though, as the turret then proceeded to blast away my TV, bookshelf, and armchair. It even blew away half of my Microsoft couch and took a leg off my cat. Bill didn’t seem to think this was unusual, he even commented on the unit’s effectiveness.

I could see that I the situation was untenable. I needed to get Bill Gates and his Furniture catastrophe the hell out of my house. I had the turret, coffee-table, armchair and everything except for the couch removed. At Bill’s suggestion I downgraded the couch to an older model. A service for which he charged me an extra several hundred dollars.

Having finally managed to usher Bill Gates from my home I took a look around to survey the damage. The house was returned to roughly it’s original state, although there were a few things missing, and more than a few new things that I had insisted I didn’t want. Strangely many of my appliances had now stopped working, but in fact I really couldn’t be bothered anymore. I just wanted to sleep.

I got up from the couch and headed into the bathroom to use the toilet but the nightmare wasn’t over. Bill Gates had pissed on the seat.