"We stared at him in fear and confusion. He weaved a bit, stretched his back, and staggered towards his chair. He did not sit down but stood regarding the chair as if it were an enemy.
'You're looking at me, chair,' he said. 'You don't want me to sit on you, eh, because I fell in mud, isn't that correct?'
The chair said nothing.
'I'm talking to you, chair. Are you better than my bed? I talk to you and you move. What do you think you are, eh?'
The chair pondered the question for too long, so Dad kicked it - with his shoeless foot. He cried out, and looked at the chair again.
'Sit on the bed.' Mum said.
Dad looked at her venomously. Then he turned back to the chair.
'Be Still!' he said, with great authority.
The chair was still.
'That's better. Now I'm going to sit on you, whether I'm covered in mud or even in gold, you hear? And if you move, I will beat you up.'"

Ben Okri, 'The Famished Road'