By B.W. Carter
Glorious king! He’s wonderful. He’s insufferable. He commands, and you scramble to obey. He demands, and you cannot deny him. He howls, giggles, jabbering incessantly. You must guess at his every whim, for he is capricious and quick to anger if his desires are not anticipated. He is gorgeous. He smells. His fists batter your face, wrench at your spectacles, but you grin and bear it. Opposing him is unthinkable, for obeying him is your greatest delight. He rules your world. He’s monstrous, a tyrant. He’s an angel. He really, really reeks.
Your turn, honey. The baby needs changing again.
By day, B. W. Carter serves as a cog in the machine of social services, administering child welfare programs from a cluttered cubicle. By night, he writes absolutely whatever he wants from a slightly larger cubicle somewhere else.