Thursday, 3 September 2009

Where Babies Come From - A Lesson From History

INT. STUDY - DAY

A BOOK-LINED STUDY, CIRCA 1900. LEATHER ARMCHAIRS. CRACKLING FIRE.

FATHER AND JEREMY ARE SITTING TOGETHER.

FATHER:
Now, my boy, soon you shall be 21 and attain man's estate.


JEREMY:
(DEEP VOICE) Yes, Father.


FATHER:
But before you become a man, there are certain ... things you must know about.


JEREMY:
Things, Father? What sort of things?


FATHER:
You must know how you came to be. Gertrude?


JEREMY:
Must Mother be present, Father?


FATHER:
Of course. How else would you expect me to demonstrate?


JEREMY:
What?


MOTHER ENTERS.

FATHER:
On your knees, Gertrude.


MOTHER KNEELS.

JEREMY:
Oh! Sweet Jesus!


FATHER:
Indeed, my boy.


FATHER KNEELS NEXT TO MOTHER. THEY CLASP THEIR HANDS IN PRAYER.

FATHER:
Dear Lord, please send us a child in the next 12 months or so. Amen.


THEY BOTH STAND.

FATHER:
There we are?


JEREMY:
Is that it?


FATHER:
Oh, no, no, no, dear boy. Soon a bubble will start to grow inside your mother. When it reaches a certain size, she will go to visit your great aunt Matilda. There the bubble will pass harmlessly through her epidermis and float gently to land beneath a gooseberry bush. Then a couple of days later, your baby brother will emerge from the bubble and Mother shall bring him home.


JEREMY:
Is this true, Mother?


MOTHER:
Yes it is, my dear. If you would both excuse me, I believe I can feel the bubble forming.


FATHER:
Of course, Gertrude. Come along, Jeremy. Now you must learn how to exploit the working classes.


THEY GO TO LEAVE.

MOTHER:
Oh, Jeremy! Would you be a dear and summon Chivers from the garden? Inform him I require his assistance again and tell him he won't need his 'special' wellingtons.


ENDS