So let me tell you how this is going to go down. I’m a 6-foot tall, wooden bookcase. Not that IKEA shit. Not fall-a-particle board. We’re talking pure oak and maple. There is no veneer on this beast. You think you can lift me up the stairs? Okay hotshot. Let’s see you try.

Oh, I don’t look too heavy, do I? Looks can be deceiving. You ever pick up a felled tree in the woods? Of course you haven’t! That sucker probably weighs 500 pounds! That’s the stuff I’m made of, baby. You can’t handle this. Wait, you’re going to try? You and your neighbor friend and me? Little threesome? You filthy bitch. This I gotta see. Let’s go. Yeah. That’s it, baby. Lift me. Let me hear you grunt.

Whoa. Was that snap your groin muscle? Damn. I told you I was heavy. Probably should have hired a mover. But you don’t have that kind of cash. You’re an intern. Your mommy and daddy supplement your income. Know what? You take the bus like a chump!

Dude. Your stairway curves? No chance you get me around that. But, whatever. You give it the ol' intern try. You got that queen-size mattress around that curve, sure. But that thing had some give, some bend. I’m as obstinate as a sphincter before a colonoscopy. No way I’m giving you an inch. Seriously, I’m a show stopper! I should be the focal point of a living room, or a library—like I was before that nonagenarian fell and broke her hip and died and I was the only no-bid in the estate sale. Can you believe that shit?

You have got to be kidding. You’re making your neighbor go backwards up the stairs? Where did you go to finishing school, Arby’s? Jesus Christ. Four steps, make that first attempt at a turn–

Got your finger caught between me and the baluster! That’s got to hurt. Ooo, nice. It’s bruising already. Is that blood? Are there tears in your eyes? Trifecta! You blubbering idiot, suck it up and let's go. Lift with your legs and–

I’m sorry. I am laughing at you. You just put a two-inch deep gouge in the drywall with my foot. Do you know how to spackle?

Taking a rest? I bet you’re tired. This is a good time to think about what you’re going to give your neighbor for helping you out. Beer? You only got an old can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, intern. That ain’t going to cut it. Dinner? Dinner? Is this your attempt at foreplay? Is that why I’m going upstairs? Into your bedroom? Shouldn’t you wait until you get your graphic novels, and Voltron action figures, and Demi Lovato CDs back on the shelves? Even I want to get in your pants—to see what kind of man you are!

Here we go. Got some strength back. Wiggle me back and forth. Just an inch of clearance here on the top. Think this would have been easier with a two-wheel dolly? Is that what you just said? You just insulted your neighbor, saying an inanimate, manipulatable jack wagon could do the job. Jesus, look at that face. If your neighbor could get by me he’d be out of here.

One more try. You can do it. Don’t worry about the pain in your foot. It’s natural when you drop a bookcase of my stature on it. Ice it later. You are so close to getting me around the bend in your stairs. Can you even imagine the sense of accomplishment you’re going to have? There you go. There you go big man. That’s it. No, it’s not too forceful, you got this. Just ease me up. Yeah. Like that. Watch the wainscoting. Nice maneuvering. Easy. Almost there. Come on! You got this! I’m almost there! Yes! Yes!

Holy shit. You did it. Am I really on the second floor? I’ve never been this high in my whole life. Your neighbor is in tears—of joy! I see you both laughing congratulatory-like. That’s an awkward embrace you’re sharing. But, what the hell. You two have been through a lot. I’m proud of you. You look like crap, and the walls are destroyed, but I’m magnificent! Not a smudge on me. Your parents will be so proud when you regale them with the beats of this epic, intern.

Three more flights.