On of our drawing teachers in elementary had this fancy chair with wheels. Like a kid who never experienced that luxury, he always rolled around, he never walked towards you, he came rolling towards you. He didn't stroll around the class but drifted through the corners and gunned it at the straights.
He even had his whiteboard hung so low that he could reach the top without getting out of his chair.
During tests he always bounced between the walls, he would push of one wall, do a 180 and then push of the opposing wall for an entire hour all the while smiling joyfully with the biggest grin on his face. Unimaginative as we were we called him mr. Chair.
We never saw him getting out of his chair, ever. We imagined he must have been in some horrible accident where his buttocks had been fused permanently to the chair.
But one day everything changed.
There was this hatch in the floor that doubled as a trash chute. One day Timmy was made to empty the garbage bin, and so Timmy did, but Timmy forgot to close the hatch.
Mr. Chair was blissfully unaware of this fact. After he just helped a student he glided away from that kid with a wonderful 540, all the while having the most gleeful smile on his face.
Everyone saw it coming, but no one did or said a thing as mr. Chair was creeping ever closer to a dark pit filled with empty drink cartons and gum. Then it happened, as majestically as he was just moving he fell down in the hole with the queerest of screams. For some reason the hole class found this terribly funny and everyone laughed and laughed. But no one concerned himself about mr. Chair. who was in intense agony in the pit. After a while someone noticed us of this fact and we all got quiet, someone quickly called for help and when the ambulance arrived a while later we were escorted out of the class.
We never saw mr. Chair again, until a few months had gone by.
Now mr. Chair was ever happy and gliding, but in a new chair, with an electric engine and joystick.
His mood hadn't changed, he just got upgraded to the next level.