The chair was old, much older than it looked. Its back was high and arched proudly, yet at the same time hunched in on itself, enveloping anyone seated on it in leathery comfort. The colour of it was an odd mix of reds, browns and blacks, in certain lights it even looked the deep, rich red of blood. There were brass tacks holding the plumped leather to the frame giving the last touches to its imposing visage.

For decades, perhaps even centuries, it had toured the earth. It had been to the court of Versailles from where it had travelled to the court of Emperor Nicholas II of Russia. After the revolution it had been given as a gift by Molotov to Ribbentrop to aid good-will between the men. From then on it passed from hand to hand, disappearing from knowledge, until a budding interior designer found it in a garage sale while searching for furniture to the office of a newly promoted VP of sales. It was perfect for what she wanted to accomplish in his office.

The first day in its new home, the chair decided it had been made for the cutthroat world of corporate America. The janitor, who came in that evening to clean, never saw his fate coming. Next morning his body was found by the occupant’s secretary, who screamed and called the police. When they had finally gone, the occupant and the chair worked well into the night.

The chair thought they were a good team too; the occupant was hungry and eager to get a leg up and the chair was happy to provide. The occupant of course never knew that the moves came from the chair. He thought he was finally blossoming as did his superiors.

One evening the chair and the occupant were again burning the midnight oil when the occupant’s rival burst in, accusing the occupant of stealing his ideas. The chair was furious; how dare this insignificant ape get in the way of what was so obviously a winning combination. Very suddenly, one might say unexpectedly, the man decided to blow his brains out. The occupant was highly distressed by this, but the chair was hungry and fed on the blood pooling at its feet. The occupant was even more distressed by this. The chair whispered promises of success inside the occupant’s head. The occupant was disgusted. It talked how the corporate world would kneel at the occupant’s feet if he only found sustenance for the chair every once in a while. It talked about enemies falling by the wayside as the occupant rode from success to success. The occupant put the phone away. “Together we will rule the world”, the chair said. And the occupant sat down.