The Thoughts of Sir Reginald

The chairs name was Sir Reginald. He was a strong regal chair.  He seemed almost snooty as if to say, “You may sit if you like, but you are not worthy.” He was a chair that had seated kings and now his only purpose was a resting place for overweight tourists who liked to stare at shiny things. The chair had no rubies or diamonds, he was not made of gold or silver; but he still seemed more intimidating than the wonders around him. The back of the chair was long so as to intimidate the shorter people who dared to sit there. The back was directly perpendicular to the seat, in order to prevent laziness. It was because of this that many of the tourists found the chair irritating, because they were used to slouching in their chairs. You could tell just by looking at the chair that he didn’t think much of recliners. He thought them to be poor white trash versions of sofas. The chair despised anything that tried to lie about its identity. He had a history of servicing royalty, and because of that he was spoiled. In other places of the world people use their chairs as weapons. Other people set their chairs on fire just because they are tired of them. Still other chairs, although saved from such fates as this, they would not be treated with an ounce of respect. They would be spilled on, jumped upon, and otherwise abused.  Reginald the chair (he preferred the name throne) sat quietly in the corner, becoming more and more irritated with the tourists and the lack of respect they had for their property.  They would drop their cameras, phones and wallets and not care in the least. Some of the tourists had ripped their clothes and never bothered to sew them back together again. It made the chair wonder, if he had lived in America, would they repair him if he was broken? Or would they throw him out at the even the slightest tear. Watching the tourist he couldn’t help, but feel sorry for those American chairs.