I'm firmly convinced that wicker is Evil.
Back in my bachelor days I had a favorite piece of furniture - a wicker peacock chair.
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I guess I was secretly hoping that Morticia Addams would come to my apartment some day, but unfortunately it never happened.
But even with a nice comfy cushion that chair was Evil.
It was good the first year or so that I had it but I guess I abused it a little too much, because it started practicing acupuncture on me every time I'd sit in it. Actually, it wasn't really acupuncture - more like pretty-close puncture. I looked like I got mugged by a porcupine. I whistled when I walked, but I wasn't using my lips. My students began calling me Sifu Sieve.
Evil.
I finally put it out on the curb on collection day. No one would take it. In the middle of NYC's Greenwich Village. On a sunny Wednesday in August.
They KNEW it was evil. The chair sat there at the curb,
laughing at me, knowing I'd have to take it back.
I tried painting it and bringing it out only during holidays. Still no good ...
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I finally dragged it kicking and screaming up to the roof one day and set it on fire. I began choking on the fumes, burned both hands and my right leg, and had nightmares for several years after.
Evil.