Thelonious likes mud.
Thelonious likes a good run.
But most of all Thelonious loves the taste of a good piece of furniture, especially if it's coated in succulent, expensive leather.
I tried to sell the couch and was pointedly mocked by a craigslister who was doing some furniture shopping before heading out to murder his next victim. I tried to give it away. No one wanted it. We set the couch out in our driveway for a week. It did not miraculously disappear (but it did help us blend in with the neighbors). So, at the will of suburban pride, Levi decided to dismantle the thing so we could at least have a bonfire.
Step One: Drag couch to back porch. Say goodbye.
Step Two: Skin the couch. Begin working on next Halloween's Hannibal Lecter costume.
Step Three: Keep skinning.
Step Four: Seek approval of laser-eyed beast.
Step Five: Stare in wonder and awe at the thing you, at one time, paid lots of money for.
Step Six: Chase laser-eyed beast before he destroys the world with his foam mallet.
Step Seven: Warm up iPod that you lost a year ago in the couch cushions.
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