Our Native Tongue

by Oliver Cassidy

Baby King ascended to the throne last October after the death of his mother. We're under attack, it's been like this for months, but the rules are written in a very specific way. They prevent us from executing protective maneuvers. Only the King can command a counterattack, but Baby King can't speak yet. So we're bombarded with arrows and large stones on a daily basis whilst Baby King simply crawls and cries. "Waaaaaah!" cries Baby King; the shrillness reminds us of the importance of discourse.

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Oliver Cassidy leads with his heart and walks and walks and walks.