There was a wreck near Exit Sixteen and I was trapped. I could see the blue lights ahead of me but behind me everyone had stacked up like cordwood for as far back as two traffic lights. People had pulled into the middle of the intersections trying to make the lights and had gotten stuck there, unable to go left or right, backwards or forwards. The intersections were blocked now and who knows how far from the scene of the wreck people were sitting and waiting, trying to change lanes if someone pulled forward five feet and every third person angrily blowing their horns because the person ahead of them did not move up five feet when given a chance.
So here’s this guy, who must have been pushing three hundred pounds or so, he gets out of his car, looking all the world like a turtle trying to right itself after being flipped over on its back, and he slams the door. They don’t make clothes to fit people like this. He couldn’t buy a shirt big enough to go over his belly without dressing in maternity wear. He waddles away from his car trying to pull his pants up, huffing and puffing, and odd thoughts began to form in my head as they are wont to do whenever my mind turns to writing.
Suppose that far away on some deserted island a woman found a bottle with a genie in it. No, that won’t do, this is the digital age, after all, suppose while out on a spacewalk, a female crew member was listening in as her all male colleges were discussing her bra size. Someone forgot to turn a microphone off or, as she suspects, one of them left it on with intent. So in space she discovers a tiny spacecraft lodged in the AE-35 Unit (I am impressed with myself for remembering that without Google’s help) and she frees the spacecraft. A tiny alien appears and tells her that because she help his race without any hope of being rewarded her fondest wish will be granted. ( yeah, they can change reality but get stuck on an antenna, I know, I know) Without saying a word she’s left alone and suddenly all hell breaks loose.
From one end of the earth to the other, from pole to pole and everywhere in between, men are as pregnant as they look. Our friend at Exit Sixteen, who is three months overdue, goes into labor immediately. Certain Presidential hopefuls drop in their tracks as the babies begin their migration. Oh, and lacking a birth canal, let’s also suppose that the path the newborns must take is directly through the urethras of the men. That’s right, short of a surgical procedure, the babies, some of them big enough to be twenty pounds, are going to have to exit through the penis.
Ah, roger that Houston, that’s one pissed off female astronaut, over.
All over America, fat men writhe in agony as their dead weight becomes living flesh. The abortion debate has suddenly become a moot point. Assembly line abortions open up overnight as millions of unwanted, unplanned, accidental and unexplained pregnancies threaten the health of men everywhere. So what happens next? Surely, as the looming deadlines approach, some men will choose life. What to do with millions of motherless babies? How will men deal with having infants, some of them quite large, all of them hungry, and very few men, regrettably not fewer, have the attributes that would help feed newborns? Public breastfeeding would be as common as urinating in public for men.
So the first thing someone would do is DNA test and lo! The babies aren’t human! So suddenly there are millions of truly illegal aliens in America. Public assistance to aliens would be illegal, right? I mean, we can’t have taxpayers’ money going to feed and take care of aliens, can we? Imagine the struggles of single fathers and their alien babies as they discover that society looks down upon them because it is their own fault they got in this condition.
What you would see is free gym memberships, free health clinics, and the death of fast food in America. The Big Mac would be as illegal as crack. Anything that might cause a man to put on a few extra pounds would be treated the same as a rattlesnake in a daycare center. Support groups for these overburdened men would pop up like mushrooms and there would be a national movement to change every law on the books to make sure that free babysitters came with every salary and no child would be left behind, really this time, we mean exactly that.
But short of some female astronaut freeing an alien spaceship and changing the way America views childbirth overnight, I wouldn’t bet on any of this happening for women anytime soon, or for their children. Mostly, when single parents are spoken about what’s really being discussed are single mothers. What we are really doing here is absolving men for their part in the reproductive process as if they are slaves to their penises and cannot be held libel for whatever that thing gets them into.
The fat guy gets back in his car and the traffic jam eases forward. As I pull out from under the overpass I glance skyward; somewhere up there, I hope there’s a pissed off female astronaut. I better hit the gym.