Mom ‘N Dad: New World Disorder
Predator Press
[LOBO]
A little woozy and “loose” from the drugs alcohol, she suppressed a giggle; from this angle she had a rare view of not only his black socks, but the bottom of his shoes. They always appeared gigantic and comically elongated from underneath.
“Is that a new suit darling?”
“Why yes my love,” the man preened. He stood and did a half twirl. Funny, but kinda swank with the big cigar. “What do you think?”
“I don’t think we can afford it.”
“But I closed that purchase we wanted," he puffs. "You're looking at the second largest asbestos manufacturer in the Midwest. I can't go around dressed like a chump you know. Me ‘an you are going places baby. I love you. You are my oxygen.”
Sitting, he swings the metal tray back over her and pours a two shots of Wild Turkey.
“Thank you,” she replies.
“How’s about me ‘an you take a vacation? Huh baby? Maui. Italy. Australia. You name it.”
“Scotland,” she smiles.
“Cigarette?” he asks, fumbling his vest.
“Please.”
While presenting the Camel, he extends the pack to the young Doctor I. M. Nyarlathotep.
“No thanks,” says the pup lowering his stethoscope.
-Despite just graduating from medical school, there was no mistaking this diagnosis.
“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news," he says finally.
“That’s terrible,” says the man. “Would you like a shot?”
“I mean terrible news for you,” he replies.
The man poured himself a shot.
Taking a deep breath, the doctor sighed. “She’s pregnant.”
The man drank his shot.
“I can’t be pregnant,” laughed the woman.
“Yes,” agreed the man after a satisfied gasp. “She’s just getting really fat.”
“Nope,” says the doctor, holding X-rays up to the light. “Preggers.”
The man gasped. “How long do we have, Doc?”
“Not long,” he says studiously, turning to the man. “Those stomach cramps are actually contractions. You may want to go downstairs and pace around in an anxiety-addled state for a few hours.”
“But if I were pregnant," asks the woman, "wouldn’t I know? I mean wouldn’t he have moved or something by now?”
The doc continues to study the illuminated X-Rays. “Look, I’m not telling you the kid isn’t lazy.”
The woman grabs the man’s hand. “Baby this is wonderful!”
“Yes,” says the man, tracing his finger across the hospital Fire Escape map. “The Maternity Ward is two floors down, and there’s a set of stairs-“
“We’re way ahead of you,” says the doc. “It has been bricked up for four years now.”
“Darling,” she insists. “We’ll have the pitter-patter of little feet running across the pool deck of out summer home.” Wistfully she sighs, “And with you being an asbestos magnate, he can go learn with the greatest minds of our time at the finest of Ivy League schools.”
Exasperated, the man looked down at his her, still clasping his hand hopefully.
And after what seemed an eternity gazing into those big beautiful blue eyes, his icy heart finally melted.
“Jesus, I hope he's white,” she adds.
[LOBO]
A little woozy and “loose” from the drugs alcohol, she suppressed a giggle; from this angle she had a rare view of not only his black socks, but the bottom of his shoes. They always appeared gigantic and comically elongated from underneath.
“Is that a new suit darling?”
“Why yes my love,” the man preened. He stood and did a half twirl. Funny, but kinda swank with the big cigar. “What do you think?”
“I don’t think we can afford it.”
“But I closed that purchase we wanted," he puffs. "You're looking at the second largest asbestos manufacturer in the Midwest. I can't go around dressed like a chump you know. Me ‘an you are going places baby. I love you. You are my oxygen.”
Sitting, he swings the metal tray back over her and pours a two shots of Wild Turkey.
“Thank you,” she replies.
“How’s about me ‘an you take a vacation? Huh baby? Maui. Italy. Australia. You name it.”
“Scotland,” she smiles.
“Cigarette?” he asks, fumbling his vest.
“Please.”
While presenting the Camel, he extends the pack to the young Doctor I. M. Nyarlathotep.
“No thanks,” says the pup lowering his stethoscope.
-Despite just graduating from medical school, there was no mistaking this diagnosis.
“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news," he says finally.
“That’s terrible,” says the man. “Would you like a shot?”
“I mean terrible news for you,” he replies.
The man poured himself a shot.
Taking a deep breath, the doctor sighed. “She’s pregnant.”
The man drank his shot.
“I can’t be pregnant,” laughed the woman.
“Yes,” agreed the man after a satisfied gasp. “She’s just getting really fat.”
“Nope,” says the doctor, holding X-rays up to the light. “Preggers.”
The man gasped. “How long do we have, Doc?”
“Not long,” he says studiously, turning to the man. “Those stomach cramps are actually contractions. You may want to go downstairs and pace around in an anxiety-addled state for a few hours.”
“But if I were pregnant," asks the woman, "wouldn’t I know? I mean wouldn’t he have moved or something by now?”
The doc continues to study the illuminated X-Rays. “Look, I’m not telling you the kid isn’t lazy.”
The woman grabs the man’s hand. “Baby this is wonderful!”
“Yes,” says the man, tracing his finger across the hospital Fire Escape map. “The Maternity Ward is two floors down, and there’s a set of stairs-“
“We’re way ahead of you,” says the doc. “It has been bricked up for four years now.”
“Darling,” she insists. “We’ll have the pitter-patter of little feet running across the pool deck of out summer home.” Wistfully she sighs, “And with you being an asbestos magnate, he can go learn with the greatest minds of our time at the finest of Ivy League schools.”
Exasperated, the man looked down at his her, still clasping his hand hopefully.
And after what seemed an eternity gazing into those big beautiful blue eyes, his icy heart finally melted.
“Jesus, I hope he's white,” she adds.
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