Suggested Audio Jukebox ♫
 Diana Ross “I’m Coming Out”
 Kelis “Milkshake”
 Anthrax “I’m The Man”
 Depeche Mode “New Life”
Jesus, I’m not sure about this place. Who are those shady looking characters? What’s going on? How did I get here? Am I having one of those out-of-body experiences everyone talks about? And if so, then why do I feel so cramped? This just makes no sense whatsoever and I’ve never been particularly fond of confined spaces so, unless someone explains what the bloody hell is going on and pronto, I swear I’ll have a hissy fit. The funny thing is that, while there’s hardly enough space in here to swing a tampon (and it appears that some wise guy already tried), I get the feeling that I’m not actually alone.
There’s a heartbeat, a real strong one, and it sounds like it’s coming from somewhere close but I can’t quite pinpoint it at this point. Moreover, by the sound of it, this anonymous other party is in a fair amount of discomfort. I wish I could offer my assistance but, right now, I’ve got far more pressing concerns like the fact that I appear to be steadily being sucked into some kind of mysterious vacuum against my will. Try as I may, the suction is too powerful, and it looks like it’s time to wave goodbye to my temporary residence and give in to the powers that be. Here goes nothing, wish me luck fellow fallopian foragers and I’ll no doubt be seeing you on the other side.
Okay so now my head is stuck. It doesn’t help that someone else is attempting to coax me through an opening not nearly wide enough to accommodate my nut and doing so rather forcefully. This is insanity I tell you, talk about a rude awakening. First I am jolted from a particularly peaceful sleep, then threaded through the eye of a needle with no thought for my personal comfort, and still nobody has seen fit to inform me what the deal is here. That said, I’ve been doing a spot of detective work and it’s all beginning to make sense now, although I’m wondering whether ignorance is bliss now that I have the facts at my disposal.
You see, directly before me is a midwife, and she looks a little perturbed if I’m honest. Flip it 180 and there’s a vagina in my slipstream which should excite me no end considering I haven’t seen one up this close since my cable company cut me off. However, it isn’t exactly in tip-top condition, and I’m guessing I’ve got something to do with that. On the plus side, I can also make out a face, and she seems genuinely thrilled to see me so all’s well that ends well I suppose.
Do you know what, things are starting to look up after all. The midwife has now left us to our own devices and this friendly stranger has kindly donated her right bosom to help calm me down. Think I’ll just latch on for a moment or two and check out the lactose. I do hope it’s semi-skimmed. Despite her kind gesture, I’m still a little suspicious, as I don’t even know this chickadee’s name yet and I’m practically at second base. Come to think of it, I’m fairly assured that we’ve already sailed that ship but still, it’s not every day that you’re offered a complimentary areola to suckle on and my beloved grandmother always taught me never to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Meanwhile, she didn’t say anything about not quenching from its teat for dear life, so I’m snatching a good quart of this ambrosial goodness before the burps arrive dagnabbit. Note to self – don’t forget to take a dump. Actually scrap that, been there and done that. I tell you what, this ain’t such a shabby gig after all. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m growing increasingly desperate for a nap, then I’d break into song right now. Nah fuck it, I’ll let her choose the lullaby.
Momma? Momma? Is it you? Are you my…my momma? Suddenly it’s all making some kind of vague sense as my recent expedition would suggest that I am, in fact, her beautiful baby boy. So what now? I guess WAHHH! would be a good place to start. Too predictable? Oh I get it, too immature. Well pardon me while I burst into flames, I’m dreadfully sorry to disappoint you but it’s not every day that you’re born again. And that’s what this essentially is right? She’s my momma and we’ve been engaging in a spot of healthy bonding.
Had I known that in advance, then perhaps I wouldn’t have been so quick to flick her nipple tip with my tongue but it was erect when I got there so she’s 50% to blame in my opinion. Brazen hussy. And where the hell is papa anyhoots? Don’t tell me he did a runner six months through term. What a rapscallion, hardly what you’d call setting an example is it? After all, I’m supposed to be the apple of his eye, and he’s probably at some off the beaten track Texas farm-house getting blown by a billy-goat. Gee thanks pops. When I grow up, I want to be just like you.
Hold on just a cotton picking minute, I am grown up. Does this mean I will be required to start from scratch again? Please tell me I’m being pranked. Where’s Ashton hiding? I bet he’s in the next cubicle, cheeky young scamp. The fact remains that I already learned to crawl many moons ago, mastered potty training by my mid-twenties, and no longer glean any enjoyment from Muffin The Mule other than the obligatory nostalgia. In the words of a wise man I once knew – “I’m too old for this shit” and think I’ll pass on the second childhood thank you very much with cherry sprinkles.
I’ve got people to do, places to go, and less than no time for being wrapped too tight in swaddling and placed in a Moses basket which clearly wasn’t designed with this particular infant in mind. Kind of digging on the carousel mobile, it has to be said, but what’s up with the lack of wi-fi? So I’m just supposed to lie here then am I? Not even an iPhone to pass the time? Fuck, I’ll take a freaking Tamagotchi at this point as long as I’m not expected to keep the stupid thing alive. That’s too much responsibility for one of such tender years and don’t go making me cry as I’m well within my rights to test these pipes out miss thang. I know my rights.
That bitch asked for it. If I’m to be discarded with no form of amusement, then I’ll wake her up every our, on the hour, until which time as she fesses up to her negligible behaviour. I hate to play hardball but, unless I’m mistaken, she’s not a day over twenty-five and that makes me the elder here. Granted, I just filled my diaper for the third time in as many minutes proving, without doubt, that the milk was pasteurized. But when I was getting ready for prom, she was still in pull-ups herself and all I’m asking for is a little perspective. Besides, colic sucks and I’m fully entitled to be a little tetchy after such an ordeal. Anyone got a Marlboro?
While we’re on the subject of mommie dearest, tell me she’s not worth leering over. I mean, she currently looks like she’s been dragged through a primrose bush by her hair extensions, but that just gives her that Taylor Dayne look don’t cha think? I’m fully aware that it’s not the done thing to crush on one’s old lady but, until a few minutes ago, I’d never seen this woman in my life so that makes her fair game in my book. Anyhoots, we shared a moment or two already remember and I can go one better than telling you she had a garden salad for brunch. I can tell you how that shit tasted second-hand. Can you be damned to hell twice in one lifetime by the way?
Better not take any chances. Thus I shall refer to this as life number two and fully embrace my rebirth from this point onwards, regardless of what is entailed. If that buys me a clean slate then, considering I know what a man in his forties knows, it shouldn’t be hard avoiding the many obstacles that will be placed in my way en route to adulthood. Fingers crossed I don’t get blighted with acne in thirteen years time and, if my balls drop any lower, then I’m gonna need a bigger diaper.
But I’m relishing getting my first kiss all over again and know all the best hot spots to go shoplifting. We’re only talking a dash of mild mischief which I’m reasonably assured is every adolescent’s entitlement and I give you my word I’ll knuckle right down in college and make something of myself. So what is my actual age now, while we’re on the subject? I look forty-two, feel forty-two, possess the intelligence that forty-two years affords. However, rules are rules, and I should be given the same opportunities as any other newborn so I expect another eighty years or so before I croak or else I’m taking this straight to tribunal. Think I’m bluffing? Try me.
I don’t mean to be a dick, really I don’t, but you have to look at things from my perspective and I can’t be blamed for feeling a little bemused. When all is said and done though, I have to look at this as something of a second bite of the cherry and count each of my many lucky stars for the privilege as it has left me feeling all V.I.P. and I plan to make the very best of this precious gift. When I think of the mistakes I have made during my previous tenure, it makes me even more determined to do everything in my power, and more besides, not to let lightning strike twice.
Certain things worked such as smiling at strangers and assisting senior citizens across busy intersections without incident, so that puts me two steps ahead of the game and I have no inclination to break a habit of two lifetimes. Come what may, I will keep my pecker up, act with kindness, continue to grow and assist in the growth of others wherever possible, and live most importantly of all. Now, how’s about a quick top up on the milkshake momma? Lemme give the lefty a blast this time, I’m feeling daring. And don’t you go telling me you already expressed. It’s like forcing me to drink beer from the can you stingy slag.