Between the Cushions

Despite the funky smell and the scratchy crumbs that slide into all my cracks, I actually prefer it here. When I’m here, no one wipes their buttery or cheesy fingers on me. My face is safe from being sat upon, or worse, farted upon. I’m not slammed around in annoyance when the Dolphins miss the final touchdown or the smaller ones are told to go do chores. No one rips off my backside and pries out my innards to be used for a game. Here I am safe from being kicked around, chewed on, stepped on, smacked about, or fought over. Truth be told, most of the time it isn’t an accident that I end up here. Sometimes, when they leave me too close to the edge, I purposely slide off and plummet into this dark, safe crevice. Once out of sight, I wiggle down as deep as I can get. Then, I patiently wait for all the fun to begin and I usually don't have to wait long. Though their voices are muffled in here, I can still hear them clear enough to really enjoy the impending pandemonium.

The whiny teenager is typically first to bring my disappearance to everyone else's attention. She's usually the worst offender of all. Everyday she gets upset about something she's told to do or not do. She hates everything everyone else wants to watch and throws epic tantrums until she gets her way. Unfortunately, for me, those tantrums frequently involve hurling me across the room. It's her fault I have tape wrapped around my backside and a crack running down my front. When she doesn't see me within reach, she complains so loud and repeatedly that finally the bald one gives in.

The bald one thinks he owns me. It doesn't matter who had me first or what they are watching, when he comes in the room, he immediately snatches me up and pokes me over and over. It's relentless. Just when I think he's stopped and settled on something, it starts all over again: poke, poke, poke. But ha-ha, he can’t do anything now without me. I'm safe in my hiding place and he no longer has any control. Inevitably, he turns on the short one with the glasses that once left me in the freezer and demands to know where I went.

I always feel a little bad for the short one. Sure, he's hands are always covered in something sickeningly sticky and he leaves me in the most random spots. But he almost never actually gets to hold me and when he does he is always so excited about it. But, he's also the most forgetful creature in the world. Every time he picks me up, I end up somewhere unexpected. Maybe that's why I kind of like him. He puts me places that no one thinks to look and I get an extra long break from it all. Once, he left me in the bathroom cabinet with the toilet paper rolls and I got a whole week off. It makes sense that the bald is so sure it's his fault I have gone missing.

The chubby one with the nice smile and wrinkles at her eyes comes to the short one’s defense immediately reminding the bald one that he had me last. The chubby one is nice enough. She's the only one that wipes me down with the cleaning cloths to remove the sticky grime and crumbs that I get caked with. She also never slams me around like the others. But she is still my arch nemesis. She's always the one to find me when no one else can. It's like she has some bizarre power. She won't let me just be. She keeps returning me to my life of miserable servitude.

The whiny teenager stomps her foot impatiently and points to the littlest one with the pigtails, the one that slobbers all over me. I wish the others would keep me away from her. She doesn't use my properly, she just shoves me in her mouth or bangs me over and over on the tabletop. One time, she put me inside her...No, I'm sorry, it's too terrible to relive. Let's just say the most disgusting things that have ever gotten on me have come from the little pigtailed monster.

Before long everyone is shouting, throwing about blankets and pillows, crawling across the floor to reach under furniture, and accusing one another. What should have been a fun family evening has devolved into a chaotic family circus. I know I should feel bad for ruining their night, but last week I got thrown into the trash can, twice. They always take me for granted and treat me terribly. So sometimes, I think I deserve a break. Maybe they’ll learn to value me more and take better care of me.

The chubby one calls from the other room to announce that I was not in the freezer, fridge, or garbage this time. The teenager shoves her hand into the crevice where I am hiding and her fingertips just miss my side. The bald one is now repeating over and over that this is why I am supposed to stay in the basket on the table (where he never remembers to put me.) The one with the pigtails starts crying as the one with the glasses pushes her aside to look under her blanket. The chubby one starts suggesting places to look and the whiny teenager informs her that she already checked there. Unfortunately, the chubby one tells her to look again.

This time the teenager reaches in a little deeper and her fingers glide along my edges. My fun has come to an end all too soon as she triumphantly pulls me from my favorite hiding place and changes the channel. Next time, I’ll have to go in deeper.