Vinyl

• Stephanie Watsford, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2016

Cracking yellow vinyl, worn stuffing spilling out, he doesn’t see it as a piece of junk. He sees it as his throne. Nothing is more important to him than his throne. Every evening, as he sits on the cracking yellow vinyl, worn stuffing spilling out, he strokes his white cat and ponders everything that is wrong with the world. Never what is right. Always what is wrong.
He lives alone, no company other than his cat and the cracking yellow vinyl, worn stuffing spilling out. He has no occupation – it is hard to say what he does to fill his time. It has been years since he’s had a job, but he still seems to have a routine, as every evening at 6PM, he sits on the cracking yellow vinyl, worn stuffing spilling out, and strokes his white cat, pondering everything that is wrong with the world.
He doesn’t see the chair as a piece of junk. It is his throne. One day, he will sit on the cracking yellow vinyl, stuffing spilling out, in front of thousands of loyal subjects, stroking his white cat and pondering everything that is wrong with the world – only he will be able to fix it.
The man does not have a name anymore. He has forgotten it in his old age. All that remains of his younger self is the cracking yellow vinyl, stuffing spilling out, and the scruffy cat, whose whiteness faded long ago. Nothing is more important to him than his throne, with its cracking yellow vinyl, stuffing spilling out.