As I entered the porch this morning, I was astounded to discover a small curly-haired super-villain, his hands behind his back, his nose haughtily in the air, pacing with laborious pomposity.

“Have a seat, Mrs. Radder,” he said imperiously.

(Super villains always use the patriarchal version of your name, see.)

Published by haddayr

Writer, parent, cripple, queer; worker, dancer. City dweller. Bicyclist. I love whiskey, tea, and cussing.