Okay...

So this one time when I was eight years old or so, I had this "friend" named John. I lived in an apartment complex and John was the local "dirty" kid. His mom and my mom were good friends, so my mom used to make me be nice to him. All of the neighborhood kids called him smelly and dirty and wouldn't play with him. They would sing:

"John, John, the garbage man, digs in garbage as much as he can" -- Not real original, but it wasn't nice.

So I wasn't particularly kind to John either, but one day he came over to my house and asked me to come with him. I did, and he showed me in the dumpster where there was a bean-bag chair. He knew that I had been asking my mom for one, and he helped me pull it out.

From then on John and I were friends, and with a little duct-tape I had a new(ish) bean bag chair.

http://www.findbeanbags.com/Harvard_Faux_Leather_Bean_Bag_Chair.jpg

Side note: Years later I found out John's mom was manic depressant and bi-polar and that's why John was weird too.

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