Twenty years of suckling drove Mama to abandon Baby Bron. He crawled from giant crib, club-sized rattle in hand, diaper reeking. He bludgeoned and ate the cat. Crawled into the street, fed on street dogs.
Urchins beat him until he snatched one. Crying “Mama,” he hugged the whelp with thick limbs, the bones cracking.
Slumdogs wailed, “Giant killer baby!”
Soldiers came with spears, poked at Baby Bron. He sobbed and toddled toward them, swinging his massive rattle. Spears and skulls shattered. One guard backed to the wall.
“Mama,” whimpered Baby Bron.
“Mama,” cried the guard, disappearing in a chunky embrace.