All he wanted was a conversation with a few of his cats. After spending millions (he was also a rich evil genius) and bringing his sofa to life, it turned out his cats thought he was a pompous idiot who had no concept of personal hygiene and should really learn about boundaries because all this petting just isn’t what a cat wants out of life. This probably didn’t help the matter much. An angry evil genius is a bad thing it caused his to develop a peanut fetish and buy up all world stocks of peanuts which he went on to eat, gained about a ton in weight and exploded covering some rather miffed furniture with half digested peanuts. His remains seemed to have a negative effect on his belongings that probably should have been disposed of but all ran away and distributed themselves amongst the stock in chain stores to carry out subtle insane world domination plans.
His mother left the room to find a ladder to get back up into the loft. George was alone again with his room. Him and his room were best friends and often-spent lots of time together. Post-inanimate objects were like this, it was a strange bond forged from at one point being an object to the next being alive they all needed extensive physiological help but with the NHS waiting lists all ready being long there was mass training of chairs to be therapists. Chairs have a very strong constitution and were barely affected by all the upheaval.
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