“…One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne…”

I find myself once again in the solitude of my basement. The dog is snoring softly at my feet and I have decided to sit in the rarely used black leather chair that we took from our rental house (with landlady’s permission, of course).

Now, this chair used to belong to my cousin, who rented the house before we did. It has the stigma of being “someone else’s chair” and we are told was oftentimes the perch of my cousin’s Big Dog (mastiff, I think). We were always told the chair was usually pretty dirty, but it outwardly appears to be in pretty good shape. I took a damp cloth tonight and wiped it off, it didn’t appear to be that bad.

Let me tell you… that dog knew a good thing when she had one. This chair is really comfortable and has the excellent quality of keeping you slightly warm as you’re sitting in it. The small hexagonal table that we were given by my grandparents sits at the perfect height to hold both my MasterReplica’s Sting sword and a can of Diet Coke with room to spare.

Its a wonderful, cozy little kingdom we’ve wrought for ourselves down here.