I Need A Throne of Skulls
I need a throne of skulls. It’s that obvious. How is a man of my temperament supposed to operate in this day and age without a throne of skulls? It’s ridiculous to think that I could be the successful freelance writer that I am without having a throne of skulls, but somehow I’ve done it. The question is: how long can I keep this up without a throne of skulls?
My wife disagrees. She thinks that a throne of skulls is both disgusting and tacky, not to mention that it would cause her to constantly feel fear in my presence. Dammit, woman, that’s the idea! Don’t you get it? A man with a throne of skulls is a man who’s not to be trifled with. Throne of skulls equals power. Donald Trump has one, as does Warren Buffett. Barack Obama doesn’t, but he’s looking into it.
People ask me: “Does it have to be human skulls?” Of course it does! What kind of a fool would I look like sitting on a throne of cat skulls or fish skulls? Who would take me seriously then? No one, that’s who. At least not without a throne of human skulls, they wouldn’t.
Don’t worry. They’ll be cleaned of flesh and bleached in the sun. I know what I’m doing. I’ll stack them into a large throne and cover the seat with a cloak made from the faces of rapists and murderers. There will be two skulls on each side of my head with their mouths open, blood pouring down into crimson rivers that flow down each side of a red carpet to the door of my office, where two torches light the way and a water cooler sits. Very posh! This is how business gets done.
I bet we wouldn’t be driving a Kia if we had a throne of skulls. We’d definitely get invited to more parties. Why can’t my wife see this? I keep telling her that it doesn’t have to be the skulls of anyone we know, but she doesn’t seem to understand. I even made the compromise that they could all be the skulls of our dearest enemies. She doesn’t budge. Once, after a very harsh argument over the subject, I even suggested that I would buy one already assembled. Still, no throne.
I could get so much more writing done on a throne of skulls. Sitting on the heads of forty men really gets the words flowing. My office chair just isn’t doing it anymore. Sure, it’s ergonomic, but what the hell does that mean, anyway? Not as much as a throne of skulls, I’d bet.
Maybe I’ll get one for Christmas this year. I’m definitely going to ask for it.