Inspiration can strike at the oddest of times. One minute you’re thinking “Thank God I don’t have to write another post today” and the next you’re thinking “That is comedy gold. I must write it down!” I was thinking about what the most awkward situation ever would be. Think about it for a second. I bet you won’t come up with one better than mine. Here goes nothing. This might be rough because I’m writing this down on the fly without much planning. I’ll see where the story takes me. Without further ado, I present The Most Fucked-Up Hospital Room of All Time.
The mother looked at her son. The father looked at his brother. The father also gazed upon his son. The mother glanced at her grandson. It sounds like one big happy family.
However this was not your average birth. Sure, the labor and delivery of the child was no different from the birthing of any other child, but this one was different. It was different because even though there was a brand new mother, son, father, brother, and grandson in this hospital room, there were only three people (excluding the nurses).
If you haven’t yet connected the dots, the child wasn’t conceived by your typical couple. This child was the spawn of something far more sinister and taboo. The child was born of an incestuous relationship.
It was truly a scandalous affair. The mother did dearly love her son, and the son was quite fond of his mother. It only felt natural that the two should make love. So they did. They did everything correctly in their illicit relationship; they made sure to use all of the proper contraceptives. Unfortunately, even with proper use, condoms only work ninety-eight percent of the time. It was that two percent that manifested itself during this incestuous relationship.
Which brings us back to this oddest of predicaments. What does the son say to his new son/brother in this situation. He decided to be blunt. He leaned over to the child, putting his mouth next to the child’s ear. “Welcome to the world,” the son whispered. “I’m your new brother-father. The woman holding you right now is your mother-grandma.”
Upon hearing this, the nurses began to whisper amongst each other. The mother looked at them. “It’s a long story,” she lied. It really wasn’t. She had caught her son masturbating to some perverted porn that showed a mother and son having sex. Upon seeing her son’s nude body and the kind of porn he was watching, she decided it might be fun to imitate the people in the video.
The mother’s brother entered the room. “Is he healthy?” he asked.
The mother grimaced. “Oh, I sure hope so.” She looked at the infant in her arms. “I hope you’re not retarded.” She held the child up to her brother. “This is your new nephew.”
“And grand-nephew,” the father/brother informed.
“How are you guys going to raise the child?” the mother’s brother asked his nephew.
“I don’t know. I’m the child’s brother, so I feel like I should do some wild stuff with him, like smoke weed and shit like that, but if we do smoke weed I feel like I should scold him, because I’m his father.”
“It’s going to be a balancing act,” the mother said.
Another person burst through the door. It was the mother’s mother. The father/brother’s grandmother. “Is it retarded?” she asked immediately upon entering.
“We don’t know yet,” the father/brother answered.
The grandmother glared at her grandson. “And while we’re on the subject of retarded,” she began, “What in the hell were you two thinking?”
“Why don’t you just rejoice that you have a presumably healthy grandson/great-grandson,” the mother/grandmother asked begrudgingly.
“Actually,” a nurse chimed in, “The child is showing some autistic behaviors.”
Everyone looked in the room looked at each other.
Two days later, the mother left the hospital with her son and her son/grandson.
Fifteen minutes after leaving the hospital, the child was alone, sitting on the steps of an orphanage. The son was glad that he wouldn’t have to raise the mentally impaired baby.
The mother was happy that the whole thing cost way less than having an abortion.
Dark, I know. That is some black humor. It probably plays out better in my mind. I can almost picture it in my head. But there you have it. That is how I write. My best work? No. My worst? No. And now that I have an audience (3 followers!) I look forward to hearing what you have to say about this venture into story writing.
I should probably add that this story is ENTIRELY FICTION and that I have NEVER had this happen to me.