lord of the warehouse

3:00 pm- i look over my kingdom of boxes as the wind outside howls in syncopation with my yawn.

from the pulpit of my office, i command my army with a stare that tells them to speak, but none of them would comply.
at first i thought it is because of the lack of sinister glow in my eyes, but i suppose it is because of the young spirit of my presence in my kingdom that hinders the power of my command.

the boxes are boring. all they do is sit there on top of each other while throwing blank stares at you. they will not talk of course. their mouths are repressed with straps of packaging tapes and ropes to keep them from spilling the secrets of the clothes they cage inside.

aside from the hagrid-looking (sans the great beard) fellow who guards the door, the two mid-east asian moguls, and the soft spoken kababayan, nothing else breathes a language that can communicate with you. the walls are plastered with silence and the floors are carpeted with the rules of the place.

the basketball-court sized kingdom will gauge the effectiveness of my rule for the next couple of years.

i am entitled to ensure the safety of the clothes, the pants and the jackets in the kingdom, i have to establish great relations with the neighboring kingdoms as well as those kingdoms on the other side of the world, and i have to manage all of the treasures as well- these are some of my challenges as a lord without a lady.