Oh, If Looks Could Kill

Oh, If Looks Could Kill  (E) Humorous look at a birth of a baby - the father's point of view - based on a true story. #647875 by sybil

I'm hot, I'm tired. August in Ohio. The wind whipping dust through Old Red, as I drive home, my toolbox bangs against me and I knock it to the floor.  Man, I have to clean out this truck!  But not today. Today, all I wanna do is get out of these greasy clothes and eat somethin' good. Brings a thought to me, I hope my woman fixes something normal. My wife, poor thing, is SO pregnant and forgets that I don’t always have cravings for the weird junk she wants lately. Like last night, pizza and steak? She just serves it up like it goes together or something. I don't dare say anything. I just eat it. Never argue with a pregnant woman. Lesson learned. Oh, well, another month and maybe things will be back to normal.

Now what? I know somethin's wrong, soon I as walk through the door and see her leanin' over the counter, her eyebrows triangular, face bewildered.

“Bobby, I...” she begins, holds her belly and winces. “I have to go to the hospital or something. Something's wrong, ahhh! Owww! Something's wrong with the baby! It's too early! You gotta help me! Oh, my God, it hurrrrrts! Do something!”

I look down at her jean shorts – soaked! What did she do? Pee her pants? Oh, jeez.

“Settle down, Babe, it's gonna be all right. Let’s change your pants. You can’t go lookin’ like this,”  I say calmly, leading her to the bedroom.

She doesn't put up much of a struggle, allows me to pull off her shorts and put on a clean pair. I know the big stretchy part goes in the front. There, that's better! I pull her to her feet, then suddenly – whoosh! Another puddle, another wet pair of shorts.

It was then that she REALLY starts to lose it. “NOW! TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL - NOW!” she screeches from between her teeth.

“Honey,” I say, “Now, settle down", I say to her, secretly prayin', God, help me. "Wait, now, you don’t even have any shoes on!”

“Shoes?" She grabs me by the hair. "I don’t need any SHOES! I'm having a baby! RIGHT NOW!"

Well, THAT puts me in gear. I go outside only to realize I can't fit her into Old Red! Crap!  I run next door to get keys to my father-in-law's old mustang. By the time I get back outside, my poor wife is hobbling, bent over, to the driveway in her bare feet, still clenchin' her teeth and still soakin' wet.

I finally get her into the car, put it in gear still sayin' a silent prayer to the sky: Please get me through this.

Then, suddenly, she lets out this piercing scream straight from the Exorcist- “AAAAAAAHH-AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” I glance over at her, fully expecting her head to turn all the way around.

I focus on driving. I have got to focus! With each bump in the road, there she goes again – the Exorcist scream. Lord, help me.  Hot as it is, the windows are down and people in other cars are staring at us. I bet we are a look good, me with my white face and her screamin' with her head whippin' around, you can't even see her face.

I see a truck ahead and lay on the horn, and try to get around it. It happens to be a neighbor of mine who thinks I’m playin' chicken or something!, He won't let me pass. Not now, Roy! My eyes are fillin' with tears. Oh, Lord, I can't do this. 

My wife starts pleading... “STOP this car.  I'm having the baby! - RIGHT NOW!”

I'd held up pretty good up til then. But that did it. It was then, that I panicked.

“Don’t you DARE take those pants off!”

"Why not?  It's gonna die anyway. It's too early!" (Okay, now she's talkin' outta' her head.)

I do my best to ignore her, driving even faster, up onto the curb, bump, (scream), back onto the street, bump, (scream), all the way to the hospital. It was THE longest ride of my life. I don’t stop until I reach the ER, feelin' like I'm in a scene from Dukes of Hazard.

Where is everyone? Oh, C'mon now! - somebody be here! I lay on the horn again. Up to the car meanders this old security guard with a wheelchair.

“Hey, good afternoon. Ma’am? Kin you sit in this here chair?”

My wife, grittin' her teeth, shakes her head back and forth.

We lift her up and put her in it anyway. She’s like a big fat board that will not bend and everytime we touch her, she screams the Exorcist scream again.  We finally get her bottom perched on the edge of the chair, when I catch a glimpse of her eyes glaring at me.

Oh, my God! She thinks this is all my fault! What is she lookin’ at me like this for? Jeez – she wanted a baby, too. Like it's MY fault. I look at her again. She looks pitiful, mean, but pitiful. I try really hard to give her a look that says I’m SO sorry, but I don’t think she notices. Never again, I vow here and now - I will NEVER make her do this again.

Inside, finally, I am whisked away to register, and she is whisked away down the hallway to the elevator by the security guard. I see that now he is in a panic, having been witness to the exorsist scream several times. He's running as fast as he can, pushing my wife, the big fat screaming board, her hair flyin' back, ahead of him, in the chair that will not bend to accommodate her.

He reaches the elevator, the door opens, and it is packed full of people. I hear his echo as he shrieks, “EVERYBODY OUT!”

I hear them all talkin' at once, as they hurry out of the way. “Well, what in the world? - poor girl! - wouldn’t wanna be her.”

The door shuts and suddenly my wife is gone, the ER is silent, and a nurse is asking me questions. I forget her birthday. I forget mine. I’m still tryin' to breathe.

I push a button in the elevator, and try to maintain myself before stepping out onto floor number three.

A nurse approaches immediately. “Mr. Kelly? Are you Mr. Kelly?”

I nod, waiting, afraid of what she has to say.

“Congratulations! You have a girl!”

And so I do – and she is perfect! (thank-you, God!) My wife is finally calm now, actually lookin' like herself again, and I can finally breathe again.

And, oh, my gosh! Look at this baby! I am so proud of this baby! I start to babble...

“Look at her perfect little fingers, they have dimples! And look at that little tiny face –oh, she’s yawnin'! Her had a hard day, didn’t her? Look at that. Did you see her nose? Looks like mine! And look her at these little feet - never been walked on yet - all brand new! Look what we did! We made a person!”

My wife just sighs and smiles as I go on and on.

“Awl, Honey, you’re good at having babies! Let’s have some more!”

I can feel the glare before I even see her face. Oh, if looks could kill….