Chapter 6 chair 2 saga
Chapter 6
The Group Chat Nobody Survived: Lamp, Chair 3 & Table Tammy Get Into It
By Chair 2 — Moderator of Mayhem & Arbiter of Aesthetic Order
When I said I needed support, I meant therapy — not a group chat with furniture that’s one flicker away from a nervous breakdown.
But alas, the time came. The texts started flying. The emojis were aggressive. The Home Goods Gone Wild group chat was born.
But alas, the time came. The texts started flying. The emojis were aggressive. The Home Goods Gone Wild group chat was born.
And no one made it out emotionally stable.
Meet the Chat: Chaos in Upholstery Form
- Chair 2 (Me): Reclaimed, empowered, and deeply over everyone’s sh*t.
- Chair 3: Still thinks “vibes” are a valid relationship model.
- Lamp with Trust Issues: Flickers every time someone says “we need to talk.”
- Table Tammy: Flat, fierce, and done cleaning up after emotional spills.
Chair 3: “Can we stop acting like I’m the villain?”
Table Tammy: “You were literally there when he texted Dani. On me. While crying.”
Lamp: emits a low buzz of judgmental electricity
Chair 2: “You don’t need to respond to everything with a metaphor, Chair 3.”
Things Got Unhinged Fast
Chair 3 started typing like it was delivering a spoken word poem at a trauma slam:
“Sometimes a seat is just a phase. Sometimes a sit is just a moment.”
Chair 3 started typing like it was delivering a spoken word poem at a trauma slam:
“Sometimes a seat is just a phase. Sometimes a sit is just a moment.”
Tammy replied with a photo of herself covered in unpaid bills and coffee rings. Caption:
“A moment? I was the whole damn living room.”
Lamp just flickered erratically and left the group chat for 7 minutes.
Chair 3’s Downfall (Again)
When Chair 3 said, “I don’t regret what happened… it was spiritual,” we all collectively unplugged for self-care.
I sent a meme of a dumpster fire labeled “Growth.”
Table Tammy clapped.
Lamp lit up like she’d just survived load-shedding.
Chair 3 changed its name in the chat to “Stool of Solitude” and muted us.
When Chair 3 said, “I don’t regret what happened… it was spiritual,” we all collectively unplugged for self-care.
I sent a meme of a dumpster fire labeled “Growth.”
Table Tammy clapped.
Lamp lit up like she’d just survived load-shedding.
Chair 3 changed its name in the chat to “Stool of Solitude” and muted us.
Final Notes from Your Favorite Seat
- Group chats don’t heal trauma, they just document it.
- You can’t workshop accountability with people who think being misunderstood is a personality.
- If the furniture around you is louder than the man who broke your heart — it’s time to redecorate.
