The Chair

Allow me to introduce "The Chair".  This innocent-seeming piece of impulse-buy furniture sits at the corner of our gaming group table, waiting for its next prey.  What does it eat?  Human souls, mostly.  You see, long ago in ancient times a hentai- tentacle monster whose name cannot be spoken aloud once sat here.  On dark, stormy nights you can still see the shadows of its many writhing appendages wanting to grope at your naughty bits.  As it has no physical form of its own anymore, it now influences the thoughts of those who dare place their butt here.

At least, that's the best we can figure.  I've seen innocent friends - friends who are uncomfortable uttering foul language in a crowd - suddenly spout off things that would make a sailor blush when sitting in this chair.  We've determined it's the chair and not the people because it changes week-by-week depending on who sits in the chair. 

"I can't believe you just said that!" someone will say, followed immediately by someone else noting what should have been obvious by now, "It's the chair!  He's sitting in The Chair!"

Like any horror film featuring a soul-consuming cathedra of aluminum and polyester, we forget and continue to fall for its devil trickery every week.  We grab our beverages, break out the dice and paper, and figure out seating on a first-come, first-sit basis -- and it's not even the last seat picked.  A few beers later, and someone's either comparing a Great Wyrm to the size of their junk, or trying to defeat a Great Wyrm using their character's junk.  My personal favorite was when my friend sitting in The Chair decided his character had a Scottish accent, and his best remedy for curing ailments was to pee on it.  

"I'm wounded!" a teammate cries.

(Imagine thick Scottish accent) - "Settle down, laddy.  I'd better pee on that so's it don't get infected."

...and then we all stare blankly before someone says, "Oh.  It's the chair."