What was this strange scrap of a thing snuggled beside me? And suckling amidst my brothers and sisters. How dare it demand what was rightfully ours. My eyes were still closed, I could not yet see, but I had legs, and had figured how to move them. Get away from my mother, you peculiar pup, you scrag-end, you runt of the litter.

By albee, July 25, 2014.