By Kevin S. Giles
Commotion from a crooning bear named Billy Bob and his band’s clashing symbols hid the first cries of distress. I didn’t expect to encounter a dying toddler at ShowBiz Pizza.
I had gone there with my family for lunch. We were somewhere in Kansas City several years ago.
As the girls watched Billy Bob and his cacophonous crew in the back room, I went to the men’s room. I heard wailing. It was high-pitched and mournful.