Well well well. It's about time someone listened to my advice and set up a shrine to the Gently Spoken Gnome. That's me, Charles, if you haven't figured that out already. This shrine is bright blue and green and contains shelves full of product and tables artfully arranged all as an offering to yours truly. Now, you may have heard that this shrine is called "Gently Spoken," and some folks are calling it a gift store, paperie, and all-around center of serenity. Ha! I know a Gnome Shrine when I see one.
The neighbors are delighted, too. They've brought offerings of glorious flowers and plants that really tie the room together, all to welcome me into their vicinity. Of course, this is no less than I deserve, but I will admit it pleases me. I think I will like having them in my presence.
I even have my own throne now, from which I can oversee the wholesale operation and keep my peons (mainly Torrie) in line. If I do say so myself, I look rather majestic when viewed from on high. If that lazy girl even got around to dusting and making a nice mat for me to sit on. I have delegated my paper clip guarding duties, because there simply isn't time for me to bother with the work of underlings now that I've assumed a more prominent role in the company.
Just wait until Cheryl goes on her globe trotting trip come fall...the company is mine! Mine! Mwa hahahaha!
Eh hem. Excuse me. I got a little carried away. The time will come soon enough when I may officially proclaim my superiority over the office, so until then I can work to contain myself. Yes, things are turning up waxy indeed for this gentlegnome.
And not a fly in the place.
C. St. Gnomey, esq.
