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The Tale of the Futon

 

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
by Dave Garretson

 

The Tale of the Futon

The holiday season brings out the poet in all of us. Iambic pentameter notwithstanding, may this little ditty cheer you up on a snowy day, or while you wait for the fish to bite down in the Keys.

Gather ‘round, fellow futon store owners, in the futon biz, and learn how the futon became what it is.

How it began, no one can agree on. But I know the truth of the birth of the futon.

I’ll tell it all now, right here in this space. Futons came to America with a woman named Grace.

Grace went to Japan. She was smart and cute. The best exchange student at the big Institute.

Grace loved Japan. She adopted their mores. She even slept like them, way down on the floor.

When her year there was done, Grace flew home to the US, and under her arm was her Japanese mattress.

“Grace, what have you got there?” her father inquired. “Oh Daddy,” she answered, “It’s for when I am tired.”

The next year in Cambridge, Grace was enrolled. She showed up at Harvard with her eastern bed roll.

Her welcoming ways soon made her famous. Grace and her futon were the talk of the campus.

Each night there were many who wanted to try it. But Grace had to study. She said “Please, just be quiet!”

“ Enough is enough, look, my futon is flat. Please go find your own, and let’s leave it at that.”

And somewhere in a city just looking for rest, is a savvy young shopper with an overnight guest.

But where would they go? Where could they find one? Nobody knew where to buy a new futon.

Then a brave clever person, he thought “Okay, fine.” He bought cotton, and muslin, and tufting twine.

What was his name? I’m afraid I’ve forgotten. Just as well, any how. Early futons were rotten.

Steady, and sure, selling one at a time, his small futon shop saw its sales slowly climb.

By the end of the year, Grace was often alone. The futon’s popularity had surpassed her own.

Grace left Cambridge for good after her graduation. Meanwhile futons got huge all over the nation.

They showed up at Wal-Mart, at Sam’s Club, and more. The futon grew too big for Grace to ignore.

Grace now thinks to herself, when she sees futon bedding, “We both have grown fatter, due to all of that padding.”

To this day, former students who’d hung out at her place, when seeing a futon, they still think of Grace.

Okay, futon store owners, now you know the whole tale. So please, think of Grace when you’re making a sale.

FL

Winter 2003-2004
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