Dreadful

by Caitlin Rozakis

there was no reason to think he was from around here originally. Who could inspire the appropriate levels of fear and mystery when people remembered your toddlerhood or your pimply years?

No one stumbled on furniture that appalling by accident. His former self had put in quite the effort. Perhaps there was a guide somewhere to properly ruling with an iron-clad fist?

“Guh.” Ah, monosyllables, his old friend. They would always be there, even when all the other concepts of fundamental linguistics deserted him.

“Shut up!” Absolutely the most convincing argument he could have made here.

He scrambled backwards, all flailing legs and hands, like a particularly ungainly crab. The kind of crab other crabs would pick on and refuse to choose for their team in crab games.