My plan was so simple: I would cry to get what I want from the universe. When I say cry, I mean positively wail, starting with a recitative of bitter barking, coughing sobs before soaring, inconsolable, absurd, into piteous, howling aria.
What made it all worthwhile was it worked. Everyone started calling me Baby Amazing. I made my public appearances naked except for my signature diaper.
Money, celebrity, lovers… Aghast but agog, my subjects worshiped me in my empire of tears.
Everyone started following my cat and let me redecorate their homes. Diaper sales skyrocketed and everyone agreed, “Tears are better than laughter.” Tears are better than laughter.