Weyland takes a good long look at the chair he's sitting in.

WEYLAND
This is a bad chair. It's not made well at all. There's no love in this chair. But, never mind. My story.

ANGELA
Please.

WEYLAND
One day, I received a commission for a huge armchair. A customer came to my boss. He admired the gorgeous furniture in our shop, and he commissioned a chair from us. Or from me, I should say. I was so proud. Proud and excited. To live up to my reputation as a superior craftsman, I devoted myself entirely to my new assignment. I even skipped food and sleep. The job became my life. At last the chair was complete, and it was the pinnacle of my craft. At last... I could sit in the chair. I had imagined that moment for weeks. When I sat down in the finished chair, I saw in my mind the people who would sit in it... And then I had an idea. A weird and sinister idea.

The idea would not leave me alone. Quickly, oh so quickly, I took my masterpiece apart. Then I reconstructed it. So that inside, there was a cavity, large enough to fit a human body.

My body, Ms. Marr. Imagine me accompanying my exquisite chair wherever it went. Imagine me sitting with the people who would sit in my chair. The rich and beautiful people. (continued)
WEYLAND
(continued)
I added a few finishing touches. A peep-hole in the back. Completely unnoticeable. Of course. As I told you, I am a master craftsman. Storage space for food and water. And then, Ms. Marr... and then... I hid myself inside the chair.

The workmen came to pick up the chair, and deliver it to its new home. With me hidden inside. Imagine me, stifling my laughter as they complained how heavy the chair was.

My chair was delivered to a private office, the gift of a rich man for his wife. A crushing blow. Imagine my despair. I dreamed my wonderful chair would sit somewhere public. Perhaps in the lobby of a five star hotel, where everyone could see it, and admire it. And sit in it. But, this pampered wife would be the only person to sit on my chair. To recline in my lap.

I wanted to give up. I wanted nothing more than to go back home. But, I was locked in her office. Torture. Such torture. Then, when she finally came to sit in me -- oh my. What a sweet, lovely body curled itself on my knees. It was heaven. I fell in love with her instantly.

But, look at me. How could she ever love a creature like me? I couldn't tell her my story. She would think I was insance. She'd think I meant to hurt her. But, how could I show her my love?

I thought about it for days and days. Finally, I hit on the answer. I would make her fall in love... with the chair.

Every time she sank her weight into the chair -- into me -- I tried my best to make her more comfortable. If she became too tired from sitting in one position, I would slowly move my knees and embrace her, to hold her more snugly. When she fell asleep in me, I would move my knees and gently rock her into a deeper sleep.
(continued)
WEYLAND
(continued)
Can you imagine the two of us... sitting for hours? She, reading or sleeping. Me, dreaming and loving her.

As I had dared to hope in my wildest dreams, my beloved fell in love with her chair. I knew that if only she would exchange one loving look with me, my life would be complete, and I could die content.

Ms. Marr... I hope you, of all people, will guess the object of my unrequited love.

Horrified, Angela leaps out of her armchair.

ANGELA
Oh, God! You --!

WEYLAND
Please, Ms. Marr! I wouldn't harm you for the world! I couldn't. Even if I could, I... I never could. I love you! I promise, I only wanted one chance to look at your lovely face, and proclaim my love for you, and tell my story.

ANGELA
Oh my God! Get out! Get out of here! I'm calling the police! Stacy!

WEYLAND
I'm going. I'm leaving now. I'm so sorry. I never should have told you this. I knew you couldn't return my love. Please, please forgive me.

ANGELA
Get out!

Weyland scuttles out of the office. Angela paces around, looking freaked out and casting evil looks at her huge armchair. She hurries out, leaving the chair alone in the center of the stage. Lights out.

Lights up, on the same scene.