You didn’t think I’d come back this soon, did you? I can change, I promise. Just give me a chance.
In case you didn’t check in yesterday (and who could blame you?), you can read Part 1. Go ahead, Squatch will wait. He’s a baby; he’s got nothing but time.
Caught up? Good. Here’s Squatch:
By the time I woke up, we were at the hospital, and it was even colder in there. I was suddenly aware that I was ass-end up and Mommy’s belly kept squeezing. We kept getting moved from one place to another and people kept asking Mommy questions. I could tell Daddy was there, too, because he’d say something stupid every once in a while and Mommy would hit him.
Eventually, Mommy got laid down. Daddy was making lots of phone calls. I was mostly trying not to freak out about the fact that my own Mommy was trying to evict me. You think you know a woman, you share food and oxygen, then. . . . Well, I guess I’ll have a good starting place for therapy one day.There were a whole lot of boring parts after that. We sat around for about 37 years. A guy kept coming in every little bit to ask if Mommy wanted something. An epic squirrel, I think. It must not have been that epic, because Mommy kept saying no. She asked if she could get up, and he told her no, but he did let the rest of the juice out of Mommy’s belly so I was nice and cold. Jerk.
After the first few weeks of laying around in the freezing cold, somebody told Mommy she could move around, as long as she didn’t get out of bed. When she started moving around, her belly started squeezing me tighter and Mommy started moaning a lot. Then Daddy would say something stupid, and Mommy and I both told him to shut up. Daddy can be a dummy sometimes.
A couple weeks later, Aunt April came by to keep us company. The doctor kept coming in and finally Mommy said she wanted the epic squirrel. I never got to see it, but it made Mommy relax a little bit. That’s when the fun started. Well, fun for Mommy. It was horrible and painful for me. More for therapy.