Tuesday, 27 September 2011

It's about the birds and the bees, but I'm using a different metaphor.

"Where do babies come from?"

 I looked around in confusion. Nearby, a small child stood by the shop door, looking at me with expectations. Of course, I probably shouldn't talk to strange children on the street, not after the last time, but this child was rather fat and ugly, so I'd probably be fine.

 "Well, isn't that a question you should ask your parents?" I replied, hoping to reach safe ground. After all, talking to a strange child is one thing, but talking to a strange child about sexy sex is where things start to get sinister. That's where it went wrong last time. Damn children with their sexy talk.

 "I did." The fat, ugly child replied. "I asked mummy, and she said the stork brings them."

 "Ah!" I sighed with relief. "Yes. That's right. A stork flies children to mummies and daddies who want them."

 "But where does the stork get them from?" Fatso Uglyass asked


 "Does he make them? The babies, they have to come from somewhere. Or does the stork get a supply from somewhere else? And how does he decide who gets which baby?"

 "I... erm? He just has babies, I think. He doesn't make them, storks don't have hands!" I had been shaken for a minute, but felt I was regaining ground now I'd established storks didn't have hands.

 "So he just has a big pile of babies? In his house?"

 "Erm... No, I think he has a storage unit or something. A warehouse, you know?"

 "And how does he decide who gets which baby? I mean, most babies look like their parents, and they've got the same skin and things. So does the stork get a picture of the parents and find a baby that looks like them?"

 "Yes, that's it!" I replied. Thinks were getting out of hand fast. Not out of hand like last time, of course, which is fortunate. But still out of hand.

 "But what about children who don't look like their parents? Or children with problems. My friend Tommy has three ears. Did his parents ask the stock especially for a kid like that, or did the stork think they deserved a child with three ears?"

 I began to look around in panic. Resisting the temptation to start calling out for the child's parents, I tried to think of a plausible answer.

 "Three ears? How does he have three ears?"

 "Well, he's got his normal two, and a third ear, on the back of his head. His hair usually covers it, but you can see it when he's had a haircut."

 I nodded, that made sense. A few seconds passed in silent contemplation, and the shop door opened. A young woman came out, and taking the child's hand, turned to me.

 "Hi. I hope he hasn't been bothering you." She asked. I smiled politely and shook my head, but didn't say anything. I probably should have, but I felt shy. She smiled too, a look of gentle confusion spreading across her face. Then, muttering goodbye, she turned and left, taking her podgy, ugly spawn with her. I went home.

 Halfway, I saw another young woman, this time pushing a pram. I smiled politely and cooed at the child. Suddenly, two storks rushed from a nearby alleyway, wearing masks and waving pistols. In a flash, they grabbed the baby and took off into the sky.

 Leaving the woman shouting angrily at the sky, I headed home whistling happily. Well, I thought, that answered the question of the day. Fortunately, I'd tagged the lardy child from earlier, and tonight I'd find him and answer his question about storks. I think I'll sneak into his room later, and laugh at his ugly face when he's asleep, leave him a note explaining the whole thing.

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