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Input here later. Must write now. |
In the year nighteen eighty four, there was a young, poor, married couple, who lived in what is now commonly reffered to as the ghetto, projects, welfare neighborhood, or simply 'hood', with their normal, ten year old daughter. They lived in a little yellow house, purchased off the auction block as a foreclosure due to the unfortunate history behind the family that had lived there prior to them. As well as the unfortunate history behind the family who lived their prior to them. They fuctioned as many dysfunctional familes due, eating on food stamps, scraping up to by non-edible hygenie desireables such as soap, and toilet paper, that the food stamps didn't cover. The young husband was in the navy, the young wife babysat, and the younger still daughter attended school. This was during the time that the couple still found each other mildly attractive, and though their funds did not extend far enough to cover prophylactics, they still felt the need to indulge themselves to flesh based desires. Life was tolerable, and all was routine until one night in March of eighty four, the young husband accidently produced a swimmer which apparently had some determination to make the young couple suffer, who seems to have met an egg that was in agreeance with this karmic prank. Ten months later, on January the twenty first of eighty five, which also happens to be ten years, one week and six days after the birth of the first child, (if you don't count leap years!) the accident made herself much more real as she ripped her way out of her mother, producing third degree lacerations, the first of several years of agony to her mother to follow... The second atrocity to be commited by the unitended spawn, was commited mere seconds later as a rather harried naval doctor wrenched her legs apart to show the exhausted couple their decidely not male off spring. You know, in retrospect, I think it's rather inpressive to manage to piss of your egg and sperm donators twice with in the first five minutes of your life, don't you? |