Another Curveball

I was at my office desk when I received her picture message via MMS. I took one look at the image on my cellphone, double-checked the text and triple-checked the sender’s name. Then I stood up from my desk and started walking out the office, all the while punching the “call” button on my phone.

Unfortunately she answered hers before I could step out of the office: “Hello.” I could hear a smile in her voice.

“WHAAAT—?!” I screamed into my phone. Several heads popped out of their cubicles. A production assistant who was walking in front of me stopped in her tracks and turned around, with an “I-didn’t-do-anything-wrong!” expression clearly on her face. But I paid no mind to them all.

She was giggling on the other end of the line. I waited until I was at the outside corridor before speaking again.

“But you’re not suppose to get pregnant!” I said.

“But I am,” she replied. She had stopped giggling and her voice took on a more serious, whispering tone.

“And you know who the culprit is, I suppose?”

“Of course. Who else could it be?”

I stopped pacing the corridor and leaned against the wall. “Well,” I said, “and he had just gotten his girlfriend pregnant again, didn’t he?”

“Uh-huh.”

Wow, what feisty, fertile sperm cells this guy has! I thought.

She laughed and said, “You know, my friend ______ says that my life is the funniest sitcom she has ever seen!” Damn right—her life can easily eclipse The McVie Show.

Oh well. She can handle this.