Signs of Dominic's domination over all things natural and man-made is often astounding. Here's an example (just a small sample) :
The carpet pulled back in spots and rumpled to make room for some sort of train track-festooned island scene gone very much awry. No people at all. Tracks and buildings scattered. Apparently the island of Sodor has been taken over by man-eating zombies and giant Godzilla-like monsters that tear all asunder that stands in their path.
The sofa was in a similar state of disarray. Cushions removed and used to create a fort (no doubt to protect the people from those afore-mentioned zombies and monsters). The cushion-less sofa now acts as a buffet, offering this morning's breakfast leavings: melon rinds, partially eaten waffles, discarded wrinkled grapes and an apple or pear core. Cheerios hide in every crease of fabric, and Popsicle sticks adhere themselves to the tile floor-- riddle-side-down, of course.
A collection of sippy-cups with juice and milk in various stages of fermenting or curdling round out the picture.
And then there are the diapers. Dominic prefers always "to be naked!" so every chance he gets, he removes his diaper, dirty or clean, and stashes it.
It calls to mind this monologue from Hunter S. Thompson:
When I came to, the general back-alley ambiance of the suite was so rotten, so incredibly foul. How long had I been lying there? All these signs of violence. What had happened? There was evidence in this room of excessive consumption of almost every type of drug known to civilized man since 1544 AD. What kind of addict would need all these coconut husks and crushed honeydew rinds? Would the presence of junkies account for all these uneaten french fries? These puddles of glazed ketchup on the bureau? Maybe so. But then why all this booze? And these crude pornographic photos smeared with mustard that had dried to a hard yellow crust? These were not the hoofprints of your average God-fearing junky. It was too savage. Too aggressive.
