Somewhere – recently – in a dark corner of a hospital, new life was given.
It sprang forth from its mother’s womb. Taking a first invigorating breath, it leapt off the table – and then just stood there taking everything in. It thought of the struggle it had just endured to fight its way out of his mother’s colon, and it thought of the struggles yet to come. But mostly it was just glad its mamma’s smaller intestine could no longer coil around it all snake-like.
You ever had a poo-filled serpent put the squeeze on you? It’s unpleasant to say the least. Maybe that’s why Clay Aiken‘s baby wanted out so bad – and it did!
That’s right, Clay Aiken is a father. His child was born, and unless some sort of crazy time machine causes him to get sucked back up somebody’s freshly stretched woo-woo, he’s here to stay.
Clay Aiken had a baby. We knew this day would come. Thus far reactions from most Aiken-friends have been Simon Cowell saying the kid squeals like an unpleasant pig, Randy Jackson stating he really likes the groove the tot seems able to establish, and Paula Abdul verbally wondering what wine would taste like when sipped out of the child’s hollowed skull.
Also Rubin Studdard said he’d really like the baby to not keep hugging him all the time on-camera during finales for various music competitions.
None of that was true.
What is true though is that the baby seems to think the outside world is just so much roomier than the petrie dish he was conceived in. To this we say ‘Duh, Einstein.’
Aiken says of his child’s bloody arrival:
“I’m sure you know…I hate putting the cart before the horse. Not my way to tempt fate. But I wanted to stop by, if only for a second, so you could be the first folks I tell…HE’S HERE! Parker was born at a hospital in North Carolina just this morning at 8:08 a.m. Wow…8:08…08/08/08.”
The child weighed 6 pounds 2 ounces, and was over two hundred meters long.
This all reminds hecklerspray of the first time we had a baby. It was so exciting. First we saw the head, then we saw an arm, and then we saw our first wife’s toothy vagina start trying to re-swallow junior. Well needless to say we weren’t having it. After three elbows to Deborah’s abdominal region she relinquished the child, and was immediately sucked back to hell through a black-wormy tunnel that opened up where her drip was supposed to be.
And don’t worry about Junior – he’s fine. He spends all day under the stairs playfully reciting chants in Latin, Greek & some language that sounds an awful lot like live cats being split open by an angry, disgruntled butcher.
We think it’s French.