W.R. Hammons


William Howard the Third stared up at the bright lights above with unwavering fascination, then stared at the baby blue plastic bracelet wrapped around his wrist and glanced at the black markings upon it that would be gibberish to him for many years to come. He looked back up at the steady star shining down from the roof of his universe and gurgled with pure and simple pleasure.
Then something was reaching for that arm with the bracelet, pulling the arm straight moments before the terrible, blinding pain set in. William Howard the Third tried to scream, but something had been shoved in his mouth to prevent him from making a significant amount of noise.
By the time William Howard managed to spit his mouth free and give voice to his intense displeasure, the figure blocking the light was gone. An eternity of pain followed, and then another figure was at the edge of the crib, making soothing sounds which began to compensate for the lingering ache in the crook of his left arm. Two white-covered orbs hung over the edge of his crib as two arms reached for him, and William Howard was reminded of how very hungry he was.


“I still have my doubts.”
Svetlana Belova’s model roommate looked up from her crack pipe with eyes already glazed over from her first hit. “He-rented-a-suite-right?”
Svetlana took a moment to translate the English girl’s rapid use of her native tongue. “That’s what he says–“

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