The legendary author Franz LaBranch bequeathed the group seven chairs. We did not need them or want them. We do not appreciate LaBranch's as an author and we do not want to. These chairs are burdensome to us. Each of them is different, and each is uncomforable. LaBranch's estate will not talk to us. His children are too young to understand our pleas. His mausoleum is locked at every hour of the night. 

I think we are going to have to come to love these chairs. Otherwise our lives will be ruined. The author Franz LaBranch was a terrible man with terrible chairs, and we have been roped into it. We are worse for it. Except in number of chairs.