My Unborn Child is an Inconsiderate Little Jerk and I Can’t Wait to Get My Hands On Him
So, here we are. Waiting. Unsure of what to do. We keep doing all the things that can start and speed up labor like walking and massaging and having sex with spicy food. At this point, our lives are completely out of our hands and at the whims of the ungrateful terrorist holding my wife’s body and my need for a second scotch hostage.
By morning, he had decided he needed somewhere nobody cared about theater, someplace where the name Chekhov was more likely to be mistaken for a rifle than a playwright.