Brant Von Goble
The kid keeps hanging onto Peter’s—Pete to his friends, if he had any—legs, and he won’t go away. “Daddy, Daddy, when we gonna snack time?” Peter, Pete, Daddy, isn’t having any of it. He’s struggling for air. “I don’t know,” wheeze, “later.” Sigh. “Go get some food from your sister.” “She’s eating all the cheese tubies, says I can’t have none.” “Janie, give Little Robbie something to eat.” Gasp. “Don’t starve your brother, please!”
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