This table’s alright. It’s flat, pretty good. Can hold a bunch of things, several of which are within reach. Nice. Not tipsy at all—I like that. It’s doing pretty much what one would expect a table to do. Can’t ask for much more, really. How could you not like this table? You say you don’t like it—I become suspicious. Like, did something happen between you and this table? Is there something I should know? Don’t be coy—you say you don’t care for the table knowing full well that anyone can see that it’s a perfectly good table, and there are bound to be some questions. Is it an aesthetic preference? What, like you don’t like the colour white or something?? Round things that can’t hurt if you bump into them by accident? Am I supposed to believe that’s your thing, that you like a little more danger in a table? Get real. This table’s the bomb—quit trying to mess with it. It’ll be a pain in the ass to move, though, I’ll give you that.