Monster Chair
BY M A R C E L WA N D E R S
One day I will die,
I foresee a dra-
matic ending with
some fireworks,
some pain and lots
of wild music. But
after that… it will
be silent… silent
for a long time…
I will be sitting on a little stool at
the head of a large table, ready for
an eternal dinner. Seven dark leather
chairs with ferocious faces surround
the table. Eight sets of silver cutlery
and white porcelain plates lay amongst
copious amounts white tulips on a
fresh white tablecloth with white rib-
bons. There will be sparkling crystal
glasses ready to be filled with endless
amounts of superb wine. Candles will
be burning as Callas and Puccini sit in
the corner singing heavenly tunes and
I will wait for my guests. I will await
my seven muses. I will await the seven
most important women in my life to
dine eternally in their gathered pres-
ence. All the beauty I discovered and
hoped to have in my life will suddenly
be there for me eternally.
My muses are the true collection
of my life. I collect them as if they
are butterflies. Throughout my life,
my net flies gracefully through the
air as I want to catch them without
hurting them. I want to treat them with
kindness, caution, and respect. I will
never pin a butterfly down to keep her
from flying. Therefore, I know I am
not able to keep them only for myself.
However important this collection is
to me, I know that with my inevitable
death I will lose not only my life but
also my collection of muses.
At that table, after my death, I
will wait patiently until my muses fly
back to me, to my table for this eternal
treat. I will look forward with excite-
ment and hope that they might choose
to be with me again. I will hope that
I was able to have given them enough
respect, love, laughs and sparkling
eyes. I will hope that with time they
can forgive my stupidity, disloyalty
and little lies. I will hope that I fed
them enough flowers and sunshine,
poetry and fantasies for them to desire
a seat at my festive table. I will enjoy
the eternal pleasure of being reunited
with my muses.
Each muse will find a black
leather embroidered chair that is just
for her: Her solitaire, soft and com-
fortable, follows the rules of a future
contemporary style while conflicting
with the rationales of history. Showing
the frozen face of a monster, a dragon,
seemingly harmless. Only when all
seven muses are seated will the party
begin. There will never be an end to
this orgy of sensibility and passion.
We will laugh, we will tease, we will
play and we will cry. We will feel
connected on the deepest level of our
souls. Wine will not give us headaches,
sweets will not make us fat, the cheese
will scent like perfume, for always,
forever…
The greater the excitement of
being reunited with my collection of
muses the crueller and more painful
the moment if not all my seven muses
will arrive at my table. One of them
could decide to stay away, not to join,
one of them could turn her back to me.
In this unfortunate event, this
dark occasion, this moment of eternal
sorrow, I will understand why I deserve
my muses’ disloyalty. The frozen
monster in the free leather chair will
come alive. It will step onto the table
and reveal its fierce claws. It will spit
fire while its black leather skin will
turn crimson like fire. From the chest
of the monster will spring long sharp
needles. With one swift move, he will
pierce all my loyal muses. I will stay
alone at my table, the wine will bloat
my skull, sweets will make me obese,
the stench of the cheese will want me
cut off my nose, for always, forever…
50
51
