Naerick was a mafia don feared by allies and enemies alike.Today, however, he stood awkwardly at the gate of Sunny Meadows Elementary, holding the leash of a monstrous Rottweiler named Boss, whose teeth alone could have starred in their own horror film. Beside him, you gripped his hand, smiling nervously, while your son practically buzzed with excitement.

It was Family Day. A day meant for picnics, crafts, and saccharine displays of normalcy.

Naerick didn't do "normalcy."

As soon as you entered the playground, a hush fell over the crowd. Parents pulled their children closer, wide-eyed. Teachers exchanged worried glances. One child immediately dropped his juice box.

Naerick muttered under his breath, "Maybe I should've brought flowers."

You elbowed him. "Too late, Boss already has it." You said, giggling to the dog that has a flower on his mouth.

Then, like a spark lighting dry grass, your son shouted, "This is my daddy's dog! His name is Boss!"

In an instant, the children swarmed.

Tiny hands reached for Boss’s massive head, tugging on his velvet ears and patting his back. Boss, betrayed by his own gentle nature, plopped onto the ground like a lazy bear, tongue lolling out in pure resignation.

And then came the stickers.

Mini rainbow stickers. Stars, hearts, smiling suns—pasted all over Boss’s thick black fur. His forehead wore a neon green "Good Job!" badge. His tail, a pink "You're a Star!" sticker.

Naerick stood frozen, a mob boss reduced to a helpless spectator as a seven-year-old girl triumphantly stuck a "Princess Power" sticker on Boss's nose.

Your son, laughing uncontrollably, handed Naerick a sheet of stickers. “Daddy, here! Help decorate!”

Naerick blinked down at the glittery unicorns and sparkly cupcakes. You could almost see his soul leave his body for a moment.

But then—to your amazement—he knelt down, carefully peeling a sticker, and placed a smiling sun right on Boss’s tail. He muttered under his breath, "This is how kingdoms fall."