This is his kingdom. Looking out into the window, he watches over it like a father watches over the first few steps of his infant son.
He fondles his black radio, listening in on the conversations of the guards, hearing of conflict arising. He waits and smiles as he hears them floundering, panicking. Triumphantly, he presses the button, speaksinto the mic. Relishing the power surging from his heart to his throat, he gives the order to silence these problems.
Minute after minute they call. Each call an additional electrifying surge of accomplishment and power. Their desperate voices pleading was his music.
Day after day, he watches over his kingdom. As each week, month, year wore on, he started to feel differently about each desperate call. Soon his dreams start to be dominated by that black radio, constantly calling his attention. In his most erotic dream, he imagines himself strongly stomping that black radio to smithereens. In the end, each of those thousand pieces would reflect his victorious face but as he crouches down to look straight into his own eyes, his slumber was abruptly interrupted by the mocking cackle of the radio.
While I was in a one-on-one meeting with a client, I suddenly felt the urge to scribble this down. So instead of taking down the notes of the meeting, I wrote this short story.