Baby's Gonna Be A Rock Star
When I played the music loud, in the car, in the living room, my son bobbed his head. He was a year old. I was so proud; my boy, gonna be a musician like his poppa. When we danced, his momma and me, danced around him laughing and shouting and carrying on, he'd dance too, bob his head, stomp his feet, shake it.
Two years went by. We danced and I'd play the music loud, and I was so proud. Then he kept doing it, bobbing his head, twitching. I'd turn on the music to give it some context, pretend, shake my own head, pretend.
The doctors say there's no way we could've known, but that's bullshit. I was so proud. Baby's gonna be a rock star. Look at 'im go.
Tres Crow is the world's foremost authority on zombie mating rituals and as such spends most of his time in the field learning human brain recipes. His notes from the field can be found in Emprise Review, decomP, and The Foundling Review. He can be found online at his blog Dog Eat Crow World.
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