"PUMP IT UP!" I cried, for I was their king.
They would come to my kingdom, orphaned daily by their parents, seeking shelter and a home. My mother would feed them, and send them out the backyard to play.
I would command them, boss them, coerce them and manipulate them. They would do my bidding exactly as I asked. I would tell them to jump on the trampoline and count until eleventy-four, and they would jump on the trampoline and count to eleventy-four.
They would ask me for food, and I might give it.
They would ask if they were allowed toilet, and I may grant it.
Sometimes I would tell them to sit down and bounce their bum on the ground until the sensation passed. Until they had beat their sphincter into submission.
"Can I please go to the toilet?" they would cry.
I would consider it a second, as if I were being magnanimous. Then I would scream my response at them:
"PUMP IT UP!"