50 Reasons Why You Shouldn't Buy Someone's Used Sofa
The owner says:
"Have you had your shots?"
"It's almost dry, but you may need to wring the cushions out."
"It fell off a truck. At least, I figure it did, since we found it by the highway."
"You can have those Fritos."
"I once spent ten days tied to this couch."
"It's non-flammable, unless you really try."
"It should be clean, we hosed it off."
"Watch that spring, it gave me some nasty scars."
"It can even float for nearly an hour."
"You like the smell of beer, don't you?"
"It's not supposed to fold out, but it will if you push hard enough."
"I guess olive and orange were popular colors back then."
"It used to be a lot longer."
"You'll need the brick to keep it level, unless you've got a saw."
"AmVets and GoodWill wouldn't take it."
"Don't smoke near it."
"The fire hardly touched this side."
"It only smells this way when it's humid."
There's a large red tag on it marked "Evidence".
The cushions begin crawling away.
The fabric on the back has been repaired with a "Rebel And Proud" bumper sticker.
The owner asks you to sign a waiver.
What you thought was powdered sugar from a donut appears to be moving.
It appears to have reached its present location by being dragged several miles on its side.
The owner appears to be scratching himself rather frequently.
The owner seems reluctant to actually sit on or touch it himself.
A tag on the back says "Property of Blessed Hope Mission".
It has its own nickname.
More than a dozen people know its nickname.
More than a hundred people know its nickname from a story in the local paper.
Someone appears to have constucted a drink holder on the armrest with a hacksaw, a torch, and a gluegun.
There are mushrooms growing on the back.
It seems to generate its own heat.
Stuffing is protruding from bullet holes.
There appears to be more duct tape than vinyl on the cushions.
It growls when you sit on it.
It has a faint smell of ammonia.
Integral parts of its structure have been replaced with a garden hoe, a flasher barricade, and the drop gate from a railroad crossing.
The bottom is covered with asphalt and/or straw.
There's a coin slot on the armrest.
There are labels in various spots that say "No Step".
The owner occassionally pauses to pick things off of it and taste them.
It appears to have been spray-painted its present color.
You hear scampering noises inside.
The owner offers to throw in a free:
Under the cushions you find: