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This blog was originally started as a thread on the forum pages of an animal rescue site. Now it's here!

The articles you find in here are purely for entertainment (yours and mine) and (with one or two exceptions) are all tongue-in-cheek chronicles of the World (my bit, anyway) as I see it.
No disrespect is intended towards anyone unless I make a mistake and make it too obvious.

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Saturday, 23 April 2011

Homer & Marge (Part Five): End Game

The door revolved!

Homer and Marge walked into the foyer of the Knuckleville Community Hospital ... well, Homer 'walked' and Marge 'waddled'.

"C'mon Marge.  Get your ass in gear, will ya!" moaned Homer.

"This bag is heavy, Homer, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm about to give birth" said an exasperated Marge who's patience was wearing as thin as the authors hair.

"Keep it corked, babe. I'll get you some help" said Homer as he scanned the hospitals reception area.

A young lady in a pale blue uniform approached him and said "Hi!  I'm Lyssandra; two S's; and I'm a Knuckleville Blue Bunny volunteer ... ". She pointed at the badge on her lapel. "... and I bake cookies on Tuesdays, run a painting class on Wednesdays and push folks around in chairs on Fridays. How can I be of service?"

"It's a Saturday!" said Homer.

"Yeah, I was bored.  Wad'ya want me t'do?" she replied

"My wife's gonna have a baby any minute now. She's alread pee'd herself ... "

"My water's broke, you idiot!"

" ... yeah, that too!" said Homer. "Get her a wheelchair and point us in the direction of the baby-thingy-place, will ya".

Lyssandra leant to her left and looked around Homer at Marge.  "Whoa!" she said.  "That's one big momma!  Be right back".

She scuttled across the tiled floor towards a the cafe area.  Grabbing the handles of an occupied wheelchair,  tipped out the occupant - "Make way for the new generation Grandma!" -  then hurried back to Homer and Marge.

"Your carriage, M'lady!" she said as Marge eased her bulk into the chair.  "The maternity suites are this way."

She pushed Marge across the foyer towards the lifts. "Gangway!  She's gonna blow any second now!" she yelled.

"Great!" sighed Marge as she was propelled at high-speed through the foyer. "That's all I need.  A moronic husband and a speed junkie volunteer!"

"Hun!  You forgot your bag!" said Homer.

"You ... you ...  I hate you Homer!" she screamed as she disappeared into a lift.

"What? What have I done?" managed a shocked Homer. He picked up the bagand gave chase.


Doors opening. Children's ward, Maternity and the place for expectant father's to pace up and down in. said the lift as it arrived on the fourth floor.

"Gnnnnnngggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" said Marge. "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGodit'scomingnowwwww"!

Marge's wheelchair was snatched by a nurse and she was rushed away into the nearest delivery room. "Doctor's already on his way, deary. He ain't dropped a pass yet! You're in good hands now." she said.

"Aaaaarrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhh you bastard Homer!" said Marge.

A few seconds later, the stairwell door burst open and Homer gasped his way to where Lyssandra stood.

"Dammit!  Couldn't you have held the door?" he panted.

"Sure" said Lyssandra. "But your wife said if I did, she'd rip my heart out, so ... hey-ho! What's a volunteer to do?"


Homer paced up and down in the place for expectant father's to pace up and down in, cursing the fact that Marge had banned him from the delivery room.

"She said if I let 'that bastard' in after what you've done to her, she'd kill me!, so ... as I'm to young to die ... you have to stay out here and wait!" the nurse had told him.

For over an hour he'd listened to Marge's screams, insinuations as to his parentage and threats towards him echo down the hall.  Nurses gave him dirty looks, shook their heads and issued tut's in his direction which quite clearly expressed their disgust.

Then there was silence.

Out of the delivery room stepped the doctor.  He approached Homer and said "Congratulations!  It's healthy baby girl."

Homer awoke 30 minutes later on a trolley next to his wife's bed. His nose was covered by a large dressing. Marge was holding their new baby.

"Wha... what happened?" he managed.

"Sorry Homer!" said Marge. "I told the doctor to punch you on the nose for causing me all that pain.  I didn't think he'd actually do it".

"Is that her? Is that our baby girl?"

"Ain't she cute?"

"She's so small" he said softly.

Homer and Marge looked around.

"So!" said Marge.  "Is that it? Are we finished now?"

"Reckon so" said Homer. "Story's over.  Fini!"

"You'd better go and collect the kids from the movies, Homer".

"Sure.  As long as we're finished here. Er ... Marge?  They've been there nine months.  D'ya think I'll recognise them?"

"Er ..." said Marge.

The author reached up and gripped the upper edge of his laptop's screen. With a tear in his eye ... dust, probably ... he pulled it down and closed his final chapter.


  1. Alls well that's ends well. Why do women always blame the man because she got pregnant, it takes two to tango :-).

  2. i'm so glad i didn't have to go through labor and delivery. getting doped & chopped was much easier on me.


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