The Warehouse, Part 6

So, there I sit, trying to get somewhat comfortable, on top of a heap of crap. The odds and ends beneath me kept shifting, like a pile of everything in a house below my butt and feet. The happy couple did most of the talking, all the time telling tales and conquests, mostly of how they came to process all of the stuff I was sitting on. I didn’t mind, I was busy.

I didn’t speak much, my words were limited to the very basics, just enough to keep up with the conversation. I was busy you see, splitting my mind between several talks. One task, responding to the host and hostess. Two, using my eyes, ears, and nose to inventory my entire environment, every detail, and every detail behind every detail. Three, using my other senses, the senses that I’ve referred to in several other blogs, such as The Other Side of Pain. Yes, this is me trying to get you to read another blog post! Seriously though, the situation had me pushing every facet of my mind as far possible. And I’ll tell you why I thought it necessary to do so.

As soon as I arrived at the warehouse, I knew that we were not the only three people there. During our conversation in the treasure room, I asked them the question, are we alone? It’s been several years since anyone has been able to get a lie past me, surely not these two. The answer and the lie came to her lips quickly, she told me there was nobody else in the warehouse. Right about then, they asked me if I would like to sit between them. Of course, I passed on the invitation, every single time (three times) the invitation was put to me. At some point, I was beginning to think my new (friends) would be content sitting there conversing for hours or maybe even days, and they might have been fine with just that. It was time to take things to the next level.

I was ready, willing and more than able. Oh yes, abler than these two could even imagine. In fact, that’s what I’d been doing the entire time we sat in that big stinky room, prepping my mind once again, prepping on levels too boring to even write about. F**k it, I asked for a tour of the building and was granted just that, the lady of the house would take me on a private tour of The Warehouse, just the two of us, and whatever secrets they’d been hiding from me.

End Part 6

Please come back for,

Part 7, The Jail Cells.

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