The longer you sit, the more powerful you become for the duration of your sit, and not a moment longer! Feel your body pushed beyond its limits. Reclining attachment isn't just optional, it's MANDATORY.
Eat meals on tv trays with reckless abandon. Read books with more anger coarsing through your overcharged veins than you've ever felt before. Just imagine what you could accomplish if the world would come to you.
"I was just like you once. Had Lupus. Was a 'person of interest' in a series of drive-thru window robberies. Then I got the Power Chair, and everything changed.
With each sitting session, I felt more and more like an actual person instead of a frail husk burdened by the weight of a thousand wasted opportunities.
One night, the gas line to my stove leaked, silently ending my life as I slept."
Is a family member having a tough time opening a pickle jar? Just have a seat and tell them to hand it over. With hardly any effort at all, you'll be able to throw the jar into the kitchen trash can.
"Before I got the Power Chair, I wrote children's books for terminally ill youths from low-income families. As you can imagine, they didn't pay very much.
After just three minutes in the Power Chair, I was imbibed with enough motivation to pick up the phone and apply for my dream job. Now I work in the country's third largest technology firm, stomping in place in the bathroom clanging pots and pans together."
The ONLY piece of furniture to have two states named after it (West Virginia and New York City).
There are more than 20 species of venomous snakes in the world. Power Chair is not one of them.
No one knows exactly where it came from, who runs the company, or what it's made of. We pass the savings on to you!
"I was driving home one foggy November night. Dinner with my fiance's parents had been a disaster. Shameful of my own family's stature, I had said some horrible things. She had stayed behind to mend the fences.
As I rounded the hairpin turn on Bleeker Road, something caught my eye just outside the reach of my Impala's headlights. I slammed on the brakes, reacting to some instinct that told me something about the shape wasnt quite right.
For a moment, everything was a blur. The condensation on my windshield, the dust from the two-way lane billowing, the ever closing fog. I pressed my face against the glass, holding my breath. Ten heartbeats passed. Twenty. Then the dust settled, and there was nothing before me but neglected farmland.
I leaned back and sighed in relief, noting the shape on the seat next to me with casual indifference. Wait.
The scream my throat searched for would not come.
'I'm Brett Favre', the man next to me said, 'and I can give you my autograph if you got a football or something.' "
What if you were a cop and the Skittle was mentally disturbed and wanted to be eaten?
I'll never forgive these giant alien insects! I'm trying!
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