It wasn't the first time it had happened. He had been left in a crib in a room above Annie Bird's Tavern again for hours crying to be held, changed, fed, and most of all loved. His hair was so blonde that it disappeared against his scalp. His eyes were a beautiful color of green now surrounded by angry redness. The eighteen month olds mother, Dorothy, was downstairs in the tavern drinking her fill in the middle of the day while his father, Kenny, was working on transmissions in a garage in town.
The mattress in the baby bed had been torn. Tufts of the inside of the mattress were spread all over the crib. His little fists were full of the cotton that he had torn out of the mattress that he had been in for so long, alone.
Dorothy wasn't taking care of him. By day she would frequent Annie Bird's Tavern, by night she was a whore at The Bordello above which she lived. It wasn't just a job anymore. It had become a way of life. Yet, she loved Kenny; or so she said. He had been created out of love.
Kenny had been talking to a friend of his, Nazareth who was married to Anna. They couldn't have children. Kenny wanted Naz to adopt his little boy since Dorothy was not taking care of him. He had been threatening Dorothy with the law for this reason for several months.
One day during his lunch break, Kenny again found Dorothy ensconced with a mug of beer in her hands. He left in a rage to find the Sherriff to bring him back and take his son away from her.
They found him in that room. The crib torn to shreds. He had been crying and screaming his lungs out. Alone. Kenny picked up his son and took him to the friends who would take care of him. That precious little boy became King of the hill instead of an Earl of his father's heart.
