More Fiction

No rough draft, I'm just making it up as I type, although I have had the idea for awhile. I wrote song lyrics on the subject for the never-realized supergroup Honkey Lips.

"I've Seen This Place Before."

December, 2012

Mike can't believe it's happening to him. He holds the little stick from the pregnancy test, his hand shaking as he reads the result: Positive. "Fuck," he says aloud to an empty room. " I'm going to have to get an abortion."

Five years ago, before Sean Jacobs shocked the medical establishment by becoming the first man to give birth to a baby, this would have been big news. Now, male-origin deliveries, or "butthole babies" as they're more commonly known, account for roughly five percent of all births in the United States. Sean Jacobs, the butthole baby pioneer, made millions with his bouncing bowel movement; Mike, like so many unwed fathers since, is on his own.

Mike collects himself and dials Lindsey's phone number. They had that one crazy night after they both got drunk at a Religion Observation Day Party at work. At the time, Mike thought it was the best time since way back in the old Christmas party days, but now the bill is due.

"Hey, Lindsey," he begins. "It's Mike."

"Mike?" Lindsey wonders. "Mike who?"

"Mike LaSalle."

"Oh." Silence. "Hey."

"I'm pregnant!" Mike blurts out.

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You're the mother," Mike whines. "That's what it has to do with you."

Lindsey loudly clears her throat. "How do you know it's mine?"

"There hasn't been anyone else!"

"I'd like to take a maternity test," Lindsey states.

"It doesn't matter," Mike concedes. "I'm having an abortion."

"Well, if I'm the mother don't I have a say?"

"It's my body!"

"Yeah," Lindsey agrees, "shitting out a ten pound human turd can't be a picnic. I suppose you want me to pay half on the abortion?"

"Nah," Mike says. "I can afford the twenty dollars."

One of the social by-products of male pregnancy was an almost overnight end to the country's abortion debate. Men certainly weren't going to be inconvenienced. Nobody was going to take away a man's right to choose. Abortion clinics started popping up on every corner, resulting in highly competitive pricing for the procedure. Abortion doctors started advertising during football games and cop dramas. Twelve years of Republican control of the White House meant an almost complete erosion of basic civil liberties, but once a man had an asshole contraction, abortion on demand became as easy as an oil change.

The next day, Mike goes to Dave's Abort-O-Rama to terminate his pregnancy. He has to wait in line because Tuesday is Minor's Day at the clinic and a clown is passing out balloons and hats to all patients sixteen and younger.

"I've seen this place before," Mike thinks to himself as he gives his information to one of the office assistants.

"Sir, you left 'Hobbies' blank on your form," the young lady says.

"So?"

"We collect demographic information to randomly sell to companies," she informs him. "It underwrites the expense of these abortions we practically give away. Any hobbies, sir?"

Mike thinks for a minute. "Well, I used to have a blog, but...you know ."

"Yeah. Shame about that."

In 2010, President Jeb Bush signed into law the controversial Suppression of Shared Information Act, which effectively outlawed blogging.

"I know why this place seems so familiar!" Mike practically shouts, breaking the awkward silence. "I took my car here once. This used to be a Jiffy Lube."