Triple Crime

There was a grey velvet couch in the center of the living room. It talked. It thought. It felt. It even gave advice. 

When someone new walked into the living room, the couch would say, “Psst. Come here. I’ve got something to show you.”

Most people went to the living room, specifically, to see the couch. They wanted the couch to tell them things about themselves. Sometimes the people stood in line outside the house to wait for a chance to talk with the couch for a few minutes. Soon the owner of the house began charging people $5 to have a conversation with the couch. The only rule was that one had to show respect to the couch. Treat it like a human. And most importantly, never sit on it. The couch was not a couch. It was not something for one’s comfort. It was the fountain of wisdom. And it expected for people to treat it as so.

A new woman walked into the house one day, with the intention of mocking the grey couch.  

“What should I do about my dilemma?” she chuckled. “Enlighten me,” she said, blowing cigarette smoke straight onto the couch. Right away, the couch knew what the woman was up to, and its single cushion became stiff. 

The woman walked over to the grey couch and sat on it, taking up all its space. There wasn’t one part of her body that did not touch the couch. The couch’s grey velvet turned into coarse fiber, and then red and orange spots began forming on the cushion. In the blink of an eye, the couch swallowed the lady whole. She was no more.

When two investigators came into the house the next morning, they stood in the middle of the living room and looked around the charcoaled room. It was empty except for the burnt couch and the woman’s body, which was still hot to the touch. The first investigator ruled it an accident. The position of the woman’s body–with the hands resting on the arms of the couch, her feet not touching the ground, and her head tilted back, as if getting a pleasant massage– indicated she was comfortably asleep when the incident happened. The woman lit a cigarette and accidentally fell asleep to the soothing feel of the velvet couch. The second investigator, who was 20 years older, said no. This was no accident. The lady should never have been near the couch in the first place. There would be a full investigation. What did she do? Why would anyone want to destroy such a brilliant couch?