That evening, Lawrence sat atop a chair on his massive balcony, overlooking practically all of Bumblyberg. He gave a sigh as he watched some pea family play an evening game of basketball. Suddenly, Alfred came up to the balcony, tea tray in his non-existent hands.
"Master Larry," Alfred said. "I've noticed lately that your super heroism is somewhat lacking lately. Is there something wrong?"
"Oh, n-nothing, Alfred." Larry said. "It's just that life for me is kinda...mundane right now, like something's missing."
"What is?" Alfred asked.
"You know how I work alone, right?" Larry said. "Well, I was thinking...what if I had a partner, y'know, someone to give me a hand when I'm out there. Something to fill my days."
"Have you ever considered starting a family? I have noticed that the local orphanage is holding an open house session to adopt some children." Alfred said. "You're old enough now, maybe it's time you started thinking of a successor to your family's wealth—a "heir to the throne", if you will."
A family?
Him?
Lawrence thought long and hard about this—it could work, it could keep the hordes and hordes of wanting-a-baby-with-him-crazy women off his back for a little while.
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Junior sat alone in his room in the orphanage that day. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, he looked as it slowly opened.
"Junior?" A voice called from outside the young boy's room.
"Yes, Miss Simmon?" Junior responded to one of the women working at the orphanage—a kindly persimmon.
"Well, I was going through the files, and I found out that you need to pack up your things." Ms. Simmon said.
"Why's that?" Junior asked.
"Don't you know?" Ms. Simmon said. "You've been adopted."
"Adopted?" Junior asked. "Who'd want to adopt me?"
"Why, none other than Lawrence Cuke!" Ms. Simmon smiled. "He's a millionaire!"
Junior fainted at the very words Ms. Simmon said.