The Black Thing

One day, my neighbor and I were talking on the phone. We often speak Spanish on the phone, and she was asking if I would like "un mueble." After ascertaining that it was an object upon which one places one's television, I decided that, certainly, un mueble could be of use to our household. I had seen a smallish sort of desk on their porch not long ago, and quickly assumed that it was to this piece of furniture that she was referring.

Upon returning home from a walk later that day, I saw on their porch a different piece of furniture. A hulking, black entertainment center with three large shelves to the left side of the largest compartment (which was still too small for their TV), and three smaller compartments besides. Did I mention that it was massive? And this was what I had agreed to. Though cheaply made, this 55"x60"x30" skeleton weighed enough to cost four people a sweat while moving it two doors down. To our house. I felt as if it would be impossible to say no, and we paid the price in inconvenience.

There was no way for us to accommodate such a beast in either living room or dining room. And having minimal entertainment to begin with, there would be no cause if we did have the space. So the Black Thing, as we began to call it, remained in our entryway for nearly a month. Every time a friend would visit, we offered the Black Thing. We offered the Black Thing as a party favor, a keychain, a wedding gift, a birthday present; no takers! Finally Joella found a friend at her work who was interested, but in need of shipping. Joella's family agreed to use their truck, and Sunday was the appointed moving day. The only time we would have enough people was before church, however. The only difficulty was that it was raining. Hard. By the end of the loading process, we were all sufficiently wet. Joella and I, having re-secured the tarp, were drenched. After church, she and her family took the Black Thing to the friend's house. They moved the Black Thing inside, and Joella glanced around the living room, "which corner would you like it in?"
"Oh, let me show you," she replied, and took them through the whole downstairs to the narrow basement, around another corner to a small den. "Right here."

Right there. They received $10 for gas money. And nothing but the satisfaction of having removed the growing tumor of our entryway. I must repeat: this was my fault. It would have gone over much more easily if I had simply rejected the Black Thing to begin with. Yazmin would have understood. But no. Nooohooohoo. Oh no.