Chair, alone

Before you sit on your new chair, you should ask yourself: did I buy this chair from Falkner Makes, or some other purveyor of chairs?
 
If your answer is the latter, then you missed out on a chair made of pure black walnut cut down between two creeks both named after settlers in the Umpqua forest, or the like.
 
You missed out on a seat so flat that, after hours of comfortable sitting at your next family gathering, your father will pour a glass of that fine scotch he's been holding onto for Phil when he'll instead say, "I was holding onto this for Phil because I like him more, but you've finally done something worthy of the family name" and then he'll give you the paperwork to change your name back to the family name.
 
And, you missed out at looking at me through your rear-view mirror as you depart my property on a venture to return to your fair manor, where you will set this one chair next to your one table, and your kin, or partner, or wife or daughter will say, "only one?" and you'll say, "we never have company, I've brought this up so many times" and that will be just the start of the longest disagreement you'll ever have that you'll bring up at most inopportune times because you still think you're right, sitting in that chair, alone in your manor, thinking back to the time you looked in your rearview mirror at the man who sold you this lone chair, wondering if he's free this weekend. 
 
I'm not, Phil.