…Stop leaning your ears against the belly and asking stupid questions. Stop! Am I a boy or a girl? I’m a boy, a boy! Or a girl? Hard to find it out in the darkness.
My mother definitely wants me to be a boy. Boy’s life is easier – no need to look for a man to get married.
I don’t want it. All men are just crazy. My grandpa, for example. Every half an hour he screams: “It starts, it starts! Call for an ambulance!” And it’s been going for five months already.
My father is crazy as well. He left us, when I was less than three months from the moment of conception. He says, no one knows whose that child is. What does he mean “whose”?! I remember “whose” I am pretty clear! I can identify everybody by voice – useless to get off.
I don’t want to be a girl either.
Let’s assume, my grandma is good enough. She works in a restaurant. But for her my mother and me would have died from hunger long ago. My good grandma keeps on reminding about it every day.
And my mom’s friends? Hush… Just hush. They don’t love me. They say, she needs to get rid of me. What have I done to them? They say, if it’s gonna be a girl – she will be miserable as they are, and if it’s gonna be a boy – that bustard should be killed beforehand.
Here they are! Again they are here to give pieces of advice how to provoke a miscarriage. Due to their advice we have already taken a bath with mustard, stung us with needles and even been frightened by a skeleton popped out from behind a corner. Mom has barely become a stammerer, and I almost miscarried from laughter.
Today she’s gonna be jumping off the wardrobe. One, two, three! Flying! Wow, cool sensation! As if on the plane. Still, there is a little draft from the side window, but that’s ok anyway. I just pity my mom – I’m ok, but she has hurt her ass while landing.
Women are stupid, all in vain. I’m not going out for any reason. What do you have there, that’s worth to get out? Your problems? In short, I’m holding on to the ribs to the bitter end.
And here my mom’s standing in a queue. The people in the queue are just strange. Just blind ones. Pushing each other, stepping on each other’s feet. When looking at the price legs they are narrowing their eyes and asking again: “How much? How much?!”
Hey, the man from behind, stop pushing with your paunch! Pregnant either? Why is your baby gurgling so strange? Drowned?
And you, the man from front, stop pressing on the belly. Not mine – my mom’s. Sorry! Must be mocking. Offered to help with the bag to carry home! Blind for sure. Don’t you see, we are pregnant?! Asking for the phone number. Saying, it’s love at first sight. He must be an imbecile as well. Who falls in love at first sight nowadays? I can understand if at second, or at third at least.
She’s such a fool! She didn’t give the phone number, besides, she lied she has a strict and jealous husband. Why don’t you ask ME? Maybe, I’ve been dreaming about such a father the whole time of pregnancy, and she couldn’t give him stupid phone number.
Hey, fellow, hold on! I said, hold on! Don’t believe my stupid one. Believe ME! We have no husband – just bastards all around. We need a husband, and we need him so bad we can taste it!
Father! Dad! Daddy!.. Bugger! Gone! Another one’s gone! And taken away our bag. Maybe, because of emotions. And why is my mom so emotional?
Oh, holy moley! Looks like… how do you say… birth pains are on! How loud mom’s crying! Must be suffering, poor thing! But I’m not gonna come out. Give birth to anything: hedgehogs, elephants, orangutans – not to me!
Who is that one touching us all over? Don’t touch! I said, don’t touch my mother! I don’t care you are a gynecologist. What are you staring at with your shameless eyes? Out? So sly! Who needs me there, I wonder? You come here in – be my twin.
What is that? Something warm and tender. A hand! Mom’s soft hand! She’s stroking me! So, mom loves me! So, somebody needs me!
Hey, you, gynecologist! Do you hear me? All right, I’m coming. Hands off. I said, hands off! He’s gonna tell me the right way to get out. You’d better stay away. You reek of alcohol so awfully, that everything went dark before my eyes.
Well, at that hurly-burly I forgot what goes first – head or feet. So, head or feet? Oh, yes. Now the head goes first. The feet go first in the end.
So, my entrance!.. A-a-ah! What are you looking at? A-a-ah! I’m tired of crying already. A-a-ah! Clap your hands!..