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Paul's Kingdom

You pause. "Yeah, Tom," you say glumly. "'K. I'll go home with you."

"That's more like it!" Tom pats your back. "Have you been inside yet?"

"Yeah. Like twenty minutes ago maybe," you explain. "Dad looked pretty down, didn't he?"

"Well, he's got reasons."

"Like what?" You can't help but burst out and say this; you really want to know what's made Dad so sad. Obviously Mom not being there was part of it, but she'll come back. So what is it? Dad didn't use to be this way.

Tom looks worried, like he's already said too much. "You'll find out eventually, Paul. When you're older. What do you say we play some Xbox?"

Playing Xbox with Tom was never much fun. Your brother is the reigning King of Video Games in town. And he never lets up. Even for his own brother. Your mind remembers the many times you lost by over sixty in Madden.

Again you hesitate. "Sure, I'll play Xbox with you. We'll play Halo." Halo was one thing that has improved since Mom left and Dad stopped being happy. Before they both said Halo was too violent and only Tom could play Halo. Now Mom isn't here to say anything and Dad doesn't care.

You and Tom walk to your house and enter. As you had anticipated, your father is nowhere to be seen on the first floor. You fling yourself before the TV and turn on the Xbox. As Halo is already inside the console, you are soon playing. Needless to say, Tom creams you with little difficulty.

"It's okay, bro," he says consolingly. "Twenty five to two isn't that bad."

"Shut up," you yell, throwing the controller at him. "You'll never let me even come close, will you?"

"Never," Tom cackles gleefully. "Look, Paul, I've been thinking."

"That's new," you snort.

"How about we cheer Dad up?"

You turn slowly to Tom. You've wanted to make Dad happy again, but whatever you did just didn't cut it. You've tried to recruit Tom many times to help you, but he's always responded evasively. He always said Dad would be better tomorrow. But he never was.

"Yeah, I do!" you agree. "What're we gonna do?"

Tom has an odd glint in his eye. "Well, I thought you could do most of the work."

"Sure."

"I think you should sing a song to Dad."

You frown. That'd be an odd thing to do, but chances are it'd make him happy. "Which song, Tom?"

"Sing a Song. You know, la la la la la, sing, sing a song, make it simple, yadda yadda yadda."

You vaguely remember this song from your many years of Sesame Street. "Why would I sing him that song? I'm not a little kid."

"Because it's a happy song."
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