Most children would have taken these toy offers and just dropped a deuce into the crapper already. But I was an only child, and a real spoiled fucker of one at that. I knew I could wring more out of these people. So I began to intimidate them, mafia-don-style. “You come to me on the day of my Barbie’s imaginary wedding asking me for a favor. You want me to poop in the toilet and, in exchange, you offer me a toy car. But you do not think to offer the toy gas station that comes with it? How do you suppose I get around in a plastic car with no imaginary gas?” My parents got on their knees. “Okay,
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