What Became Chifforobe's Midlife Crisis

The other day I was talking to a few pals when they told me I'm apparently getting pretty old.

"Your doors creak, your floors leak, nobody uses you anymore, and AARP is sending you letters. You're old, Chif."

I'm taken aback, of course. I may have been around for a few years, but criminy!

"I've got years ahead of me. I mean, I haven't had a hearth-attack and I still don't show any signs of varnish cancer. And look at my solid rack! That's right, this big clothes rack of mine stays good and straight. I still catch people staring."

And then that whipper-snapper the Television has the nerve to say, "They're staring because they don't know why someone hasn't busted you up to make kindling yet."

"Look here," I say, "I've got ten times more use than you, sonny. I don't care if you just went out and got your Netflix pierced. I'm as sturdy as a--"

The Humans walk in with a big blanket of some sort and next thing I know I can't see a darned thing. So they start trying to lift me and I get excited--how long it's been since I've had a good change of scenery!

They carry me for a few minutes and whatdoyouknow, I'm out like a light. But don't you compare me to that whore Lightbulb. Always looking for a turn-on.

But anyway I wake up after a little catnap to find I'm in some HUGE room full of... the elderly. They're carting me around between 18th-century lamps and weirdo pictures. You can guess a young lady like me is pretty out-of-place.

Then finally I get gently set down next to some bearded human with glasses. And what do you know, even he starts checking me out. If I was one of those up-tight Curtain twins I would have thrown a fit, but I've got some party left in me.

"I need to find the name of the designer," he says.

They point him to, oh lord... that tattoo I got as a wild kid. He's squinting and poking at it... And I think Gee, it's not that old. Get your eyes checked, y'old fogie.

FINALLY he can take his eyes off me, and he starts talking to the owners. It's so loud in the place I can't catch anything except "...between 10,000 and 12,000 dollars."

The owners just start beaming and looking at me like I'm the best thing since sliced bread. I can remember back when that first crazy kid thought of slicing his bread. Those were the days.

And then the bearded man with glasses says "Thank you for taking this lovely, truly lovely piece of furniture to Antiques Road Show."

Look at me! TV can read em and weep when I tell him they took "a truly lovely piece of furniture to...
Antiques Road Show?"

Wait, what?