Don't Be A Complete Tool

We are in the market for a new mattress.  Mr. A has a twitchy back and the little princess he cannot tolerate our cushy pillow top mattress any longer.

(Seriously, we've only had the mattress for a couple of years.  There's no reason he should be this uncomfortable.)

Taxes filed + return expected = mattress shopping has commenced.  He knows that he will no longer be able to rest his dainty head on a regular spring mattress any longer, as they've been banned by the Geneva Convention as instruments of torture. *cough* So he's put in some time to do research on his alternatives.

Air beds: no.  Apparently they're nothing but problems.  Most of the reviews he read have mentioned something about the air leaking out.  It really sounds like a pain-in-the-ass.

Tempurpedic: no.  Something about the foam taking the shape of your body in no time flat.

The last viable option he looked into was a waterbed.  For anyone who hasn't shopped for a new bed in a while, waterbeds are now made with foam sides so they can be placed on a regular bed frame.  They also no longer make you sea sick.

This suited his majesty and he proceeded to locate places in town that sell these new wonder beds.

The top Google search pick: Waterbed City.

Sounds promising.  I mean, surely you can find one bed you like in an entire city of them.

He pulls into the parking lot of a tiny storefront.  One other car graces the parking lot.  That would be the car of Waterbed City's one employee.

He chanced walking in anyway, only to find 4 waterbeds.  He also swears that one of the mattresses had a blood stain.

This place has some nerve calling itself Waterbed City.

Waterbed City, you have officially been downgraded to Waterbed Village of the Damned.

**this post has been brought to you today by 2 Margaritas**