Essays

Last month, Mr. K’s desk asserted its authority and wrote the newsletter, which is Desk’s right because, after all, this publication is titled “From the Desk of Dean Koontz.” As Mr. K’s office chair—fondly referred to by everyone here as “O.C.”—I admit to some jealousy that Desk could address all of you, while I was denied a voice. Happily, Desk is a fair-minded individual, and I have been asked to write this month’s installment.

I am a highly functional yet attractive chair designed and produced by Mr. Herman Miller, whom I have never met. I remember the factory where I first became self-aware, the weeks waiting in inventory for someone to want me, the envy I felt when another chair was shrink-wrapped and sent into the world to serve and comfort the company or family who adopted it. I won’t dwell on that period of great sadness, because I have since then had years of happiness with Mr. K, in spite of his many foibles, strange habits, and amusing idiocies.

I have five elegantly formed legs, each of which ends in a wheel that can pivot 360 degrees with supernatural smoothness. My seat also can swivel 360 degrees. This capability delights Mr. K. On those days when his writing is not going well, he often takes a break to spin in me as if I am a carnival ride. Sometimes he spins so long that he becomes nauseous and regurgitates, though he has always had the grace not to vomit on me.

My adjustable spring allows precisely the degree of back support that is desired, which pretty much depends on Mr. K’s sobriety or lack thereof. I’m fully upholstered in leather of the highest quality. I am at all times naked, as no one makes clothes for chairs, and I like nothing better than to be wiped firmly but lovingly with a soft cloth that has been well moistened with a cleaning cream. I must admit that I also take an almost wicked pleasure in having a drop of lubricant applied to each of my five wheels.

Although there are many, many stories I could recount about Mr. K’s often peculiar behavior, this is not a cheesy tell-all. Every piece of furniture here in the home office has great respect and affection for Mr. K in spite of everything he’s done. However, I do wish that, at the end of the day, he wouldn’t leave Desk as cluttered as he often does and would tuck me into the cozy knee space where I belong at night. Too often, when he turns off HP (the computer), he spins away from Desk, springs off my seat, and leaves me to roll willy-nilly to a stop, where I am left isolate and vulnerable, far from the knee space and frequently facing in an unpleasant direction. Ah, well, it’s the fate of furniture to be perceived as unaware of all offenses.

I would not be the high-quality chair that I am if I failed to tell you that Mr. K’s recent book, The Bad Weather Friend, is available in hardcover, eBook, and audio. It is a delightful and compelling story that nearly everyone loves. Indeed, the only naysayer is Waste Can, who is a pessimistic and sour-tempered individual who doesn’t like anyone or anything.