Pinkie and Child

Pinkie has a devastating story to tell today. She is sad beyond the depths of sadness, and unable to be consoled. I have a secret that I need to tell you now, my faithful readers.

Until last night, I was with child.

You see, I was at my Momma's house (GrandMomma? I think not) for a party of epic proportions. On the advise of physicians, I had tried to not be too active, or drink or drug soo much, but eventually the festive atmosphere took over. I was indulging in the debauchery when, during a particularly violent back-flip half-twist dive, the fruit of my loins was launched from my love canal -- ripped from it's protective womb by the shear force of the flipping.

Where it landed, only time will tell.

Oh, it was an early pregnancy I know, but yet still valid and true. I had become with child almost 2 hours earlier at the brutish hands of Marsha's brother Stephen. (I suppose it could have been the trucker on the way over to the party, but no, I'm sure it was him) He'll deny it, of course, but those are the facts. Would Pinkie ever lie to you?

I know it's better this way, what with all the drugs and booze, my life is certainly no place for a child. Yet still, I can't help but wonder what a mini-Pinkie might have been like. Going through life together, bitching at the bartender together. "Get me another bottle, wench, or I'm fillin my diaper" mini-Pinkie might say. Brings a tear to my eye. But alas, that dream will have to wait now, at least until next weekend. Kisses.