Oh, this is horrible. I generally have a strong policy against feeling bad about anything I do ever but this one is eating away at me. I can’t sleep at night, I feel awful. You see, I have impregnated another woman who is not my wife. I feel like Elliot Spitzer or one of the many other famous pieces of shit that gets wrapped up in such scandals. I have a feeling this is going to make things weird between me and my wife. Especially since, you know, our own kid is due in three months.
Not to defer blame, or even insinuate that this is my wife’s fault but I will say if it took me and my wife three years to get pregnant and then I instantly get this other girl pregnant, it is safe to say I wasn’t the problem in the baby-making equation. Right? But I’m not pointing fingers.
Mike ended up going on a trip to Cuba with me. After we returned from the trip his shoe sponsor, eS, asked me to interview him about life and Cuba and whatever. I think I already showed you this, but I really don’t remember. I don’t even know if you listen when I talk. So there it is again, the interview I did with Mike only ONE MONTH AGO. The reason I bring it up is because of this little exchange between him and I:
Me: Do you ever worry about getting your girlfriend pregnant when you’re porking her?
Mike: Oh man. Don’t fuck with my head right now. I mean obviously everyone’s a little scared of that.
Well, you’ll be happy to know that it’s only like a 30-hour window every month that you could actually get her knocked up.
Oh really? Are you fucking serious?
I need to figure out this window.
You got to get her to start taking ovulation tests.
Oh yeah and then run with it.
Like a Polish pregnancy.
I don’t want a pregnancy so I want to avoid that window.
Exactly. They don’t tell you that in high school. If they told you that in high school you would take those odds.
Yeah but then a lot more chicks would get pregnant, but still.
Yeah, but the odds are in your favor.
God damn. I need to get on that, man. I got to do some research.
Yeah, fuck condoms, man.
The window! Use the window as the condom.
“Do you use condoms?” No, I watch my window. I look through my window.
Yeah, put a little glass in that crotch.
I keep it closed during those hours.
So yeah. I would like to say I was drinking during the interview. And we were both giggling. A lot. I never for a second thought Mike would take my advice and stop using condoms and just start blowing load after load inside his girlfriend, Daisy. But he did. Super-powered 20-year-old loads.
Here’s just a few ways in which he fucked up:
2) He never told me Daisy was Mexican. That negates all windows. Mexicans are fertile 32 days a month. Daisy's a 25-year-old Mexican, which means you can get her pregnant just by thinking about having sex with her.
C) It takes a few months, with an ovulation kit, to learn exactly when a woman’s window is open and closed. Mike didn’t bother to learn that important information.
And so ladies and gentlemen, my bad advice has gone and gotten Daisy pregnant. I feel like a jerk. I feel this kid is my responsibility now and so I did what any loving dad would do – I offered to buy it off them. I figured Crissie could have our kid and then we could buy Mike and Daisy’s and we’d be done. No need to have any more kids. And Mike’s kid is gonna be half-Mexican, which is awesome because I had to fire my landscaper this year because of the economy so I could really use a little brown somebody around the house that can do my lawn.
I made Mike what I felt to be a fair and honest offer for the kid: a 30-pack, three sheets of grip tape, and four bearings.
He returned with a counter offer of, “Make it two 30-packs and the woman comes included. She makes a great housekeeper.” For that price I insisted he throw in one of those bags of oranges Daisy’s uncles sell by the overpass and it’s a deal.
But the reality is they seem stoked on having the baby. I asked if they were keeping it or using the old rusty coat hanger and they said they were gonna hold onto it and they were excited about it. But they’re young. What do they know?
Technically the kid is part mine, I told Mike. I just hoped he wasn’t thinking about me when he made it. I also hope that in keeping with my family tradition he names my kid Chris (or Cris, if it’s a girl).