Note: If I'm bored with the California tale, I know y'all are...we'll get back to that shortly. For now, enjoy a little somethin' hot from the G-n-G kitchen:
In 1996, after our Grandmother's funeral, my sister (Big Sissy) once said, “Y’know, men can get pregnant now.” Now, go back and read it again, but imagine a drunk, and angry, Dixie Carter.
I asked, “What? Who are you talking to?” There was no one else in the room, but with my family, it’s sometimes necessary to clarify.
“I’m talkin’ to you!” she snapped. Big Sissy always snaps. There is no subtle...there is only Big Sissy. “I read that they got a man pregnant.”
“You read?” I teased. Well, not so much teased as I had never actually seen her do it before.
She glared, then moved to backhand me. I flinched. Big Sissy is a pretty, petite little thing, but a dirty fighter.
“...and who is this they you’re talking about?”
“Hell, I don’t know! Smart, science kind of people!” she screamed. “May I finish please?”
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to stop you. I'm intrigued. How did they work this miracle?”
“So, they took a fertilized egg and attached it to this man’s kidney.” She continued to emphasize the word “they” either to mock me, or because she felt it gave her story more credibility.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake...” I hissed.
“Would you shut up long for me to finish?”
“I just want to know how much more ridiculous this is going to get before I ask Mama for one of her pills.” I had mocked her, so she punched me.
“They attached it to his kidney. He was on bed rest for six months, and then they had to do a C-Section to get the baby out 'cuz of the fact that he didn't have a vagina. ”
I interrupted, "Just so you know...I was clear that he did not have a vagina the moment you said men can get pregnant."
She rolled her eyes, and punched me again, “Shut up! It 'aint funny! It’s been a year since it happened, and that poor man’s child has to live in a bubble for the rest of his life! Just like John Travolta!”
I furrowed my brow, suppressed another giggle, cautiously took her hand and calmly said, “Sissy, John Travolta does not live in a bubble. Well, not a literal bubble anyway.”
She snatched her hand from mine. “Don’t lie to me, Robbie J.! I’ve seen it on the television.”
“What? A man giving birth?”
“No! John Travolta living in a bubble!”
...and that is why I write.
In 1996, after our Grandmother's funeral, my sister (Big Sissy) once said, “Y’know, men can get pregnant now.” Now, go back and read it again, but imagine a drunk, and angry, Dixie Carter.
I asked, “What? Who are you talking to?” There was no one else in the room, but with my family, it’s sometimes necessary to clarify.
“I’m talkin’ to you!” she snapped. Big Sissy always snaps. There is no subtle...there is only Big Sissy. “I read that they got a man pregnant.”
“You read?” I teased. Well, not so much teased as I had never actually seen her do it before.
She glared, then moved to backhand me. I flinched. Big Sissy is a pretty, petite little thing, but a dirty fighter.
“...and who is this they you’re talking about?”
“Hell, I don’t know! Smart, science kind of people!” she screamed. “May I finish please?”
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to stop you. I'm intrigued. How did they work this miracle?”
“So, they took a fertilized egg and attached it to this man’s kidney.” She continued to emphasize the word “they” either to mock me, or because she felt it gave her story more credibility.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake...” I hissed.
“Would you shut up long for me to finish?”
“I just want to know how much more ridiculous this is going to get before I ask Mama for one of her pills.” I had mocked her, so she punched me.
“They attached it to his kidney. He was on bed rest for six months, and then they had to do a C-Section to get the baby out 'cuz of the fact that he didn't have a vagina. ”
I interrupted, "Just so you know...I was clear that he did not have a vagina the moment you said men can get pregnant."
She rolled her eyes, and punched me again, “Shut up! It 'aint funny! It’s been a year since it happened, and that poor man’s child has to live in a bubble for the rest of his life! Just like John Travolta!”
I furrowed my brow, suppressed another giggle, cautiously took her hand and calmly said, “Sissy, John Travolta does not live in a bubble. Well, not a literal bubble anyway.”
She snatched her hand from mine. “Don’t lie to me, Robbie J.! I’ve seen it on the television.”
“What? A man giving birth?”
“No! John Travolta living in a bubble!”
...and that is why I write.
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