Brand new

A draft of cold air sends a shiver up his spine. In his mind he edits the scene below him, he cuts the suits off the men, and business casual dresses off the women. The motor vehicles stop running and collide into one another. The exhaust is edited out, and all the actors begin crying, dropping to their knees in sorrow, realising that their lives are ultimately meaningless.
"WHATS THE POINT?!" he shouts at the cast of his film. His footing on the buildings eighteen story high ledge is meek. He spreads his arms wide, and waves them up and down, mimicking a bird in flight. Smiling at the sky, he caws like a raven, "CAW-CAW." He bends his knees still pumping his arms, as if they are feathered limbs designed for flight. As he is about to leap, his cell phone rings.
The screen displays the caller, "Mother" it reads. "Hello mom" he says into the phone, "Shes what?! Okay, I'm on my way". His sisters water has broken, and she is going into labor. He makes his way back down the building, the same way he came up, the fire escape. Hails a taxi cab by whistling with two fingers in his mouth."East End Memorial Hospital" he tells the Iranian cab driver, and cracks the window so he can aim his spit through a slender opening.
He arrives at the hospital,"Hello, Alyssa Camron is my sister. She is currently spawning an offspring, which way to the maternity ward?" he asks a receptionist with fair colored skin, and a large head, "West wing, level four" she answers, and returns to her crossword. He strolls through the hospitals hallways, peeking his head into each room he passes, smiling at the injured/sick/dieing patients inside, some of the times nodding his head in approval.
Reaching the maternity ward he asks a women at a long desk with swirling, black, marble counter top "Alyssa Camron please, she is my sibling", the African woman with a small head and dreadlocks, frowns at his cheerful tone and points down a long dark hall with red, brick flooring, and Christmas lights strung along the walls in a wavy pattern.
At the entrance to the hallway is a wood desk, sitting on the desk is a top hat, long black cane, gold sequined blazer, and a stick of watermelon-cherry bubblegum. He pops the stick of gum in his mouth, throws the blazer over his shoulder, grabs the cane and uses it to flick the top hat onto his head.
Eight bit jazz music begins playing, as he shimmys sideways into the hallway and spins a pirouette, ending with the splits. Rising to his feet, cane in hand he walks with a swagger towards the glowing, green door at the end of the hallway.
Rapping on the door with his black cane, the door opens. His mother is standing in a white walled, run of the mill, dreary hospital room. His mother rushes over to him "Oh dear, her cervix has just dilated to ten centimeters, shes about to (she puts her finger in her mouth and snaps them out creating a popping sound) pop one right out" she says cheerfully. The room smells as hospital rooms do, clean, in a toxic kind of way. "Good mom, cause I was feeling down and out today" he says to his mother, " I know son, I know. I am your mother, I can sense those kind of things ya know" she says with a wide smile.
The man takes off his sequined blazer and top hat, folds the blazer, places it on a shelf across from his contracting sister, and saunters over to his one and only sibling. He places the hat atop her short curly, red haired head, and proceeds to kiss her on the cheek," Love you Sis, (winks at her), I really need this" he says. She frowns at him, but blows him a kiss, which he catches and comically places in his pants pocket.
"Okay dear, one more time, and, big pusssh" his mother coaches his sister. 'Fwoomp'.The new-born baby boy slides out of her vagina, down a small chute with a blade that cuts the umbilical cord, through a tube that sprays water from all angles and into a metal box with vents in the side. The man walks over to the metal box and clicks one of the buttons on the top of it, metallic whirring noises emit from the box then a 'DING'.
The man carefully pulls the baby boy out of the metal box, walks over to a glass table in the corner, and places the boy on the surface.
With a mouth full of soft baby meat he says "Medium rare, doesn't get any better" his mother smiles at him, "Feeling better then hunny? No more bad thoughts?" she asks, " Yes much better, I feel brand new ".