He stands, surveying his kingdom, spatula in hand - scepter and talisman in one. He knows he is in charge here, doesn’t take any lip from his subjects, They lie scattered around him, discarded in a moment of whim and brilliance. He moves across his land, imploring the toys around him to do his bidding. They are his to rule after all. The bunny book stretches open, cowering in fear of his grace, his nobility. The stuffed monkey scurries to the corner in an effort to submit to the King’s omniscient power. Each toy, detached, alert, ready for the inevitable attack. Their king, though loving, is a brutal ruler.
He scans the room, calculating, assessing. He carefully examines each object, weighing his options with a regal pause - a Tupperware lid, a spoon, a plastic giraffe. His eyes land on a discarded pacifier -his target. He bends his knees and drops to the floor, no sudden movements yet. Then like a snake attacking its prey, he crawls over and snatches the paci. He shoves it to his mouth, gnashing it with what teeth he has. Gnawing the edges, running the hard plastic against his swollen gums. Suddenly, he freezes - alert, aware. His eyes dart to a pan, halfway hidden under the dresser. He lets out a battle cry, “AHHHHH,” and in a second it’s in hand. He bangs it swiftly against the floor demanding obedience and loyalty. The pan doesn’t put up a fight; it knows when it’s been beat. He howls, “bah, bah, bah, bah, bah,” smashing the pan while he bounces up and down. He smiles. Surveys his land. Let’s out a cry of victory. Today he has won.