've reached a fork in the road. I've lived over half of my life and it's been amazing. My dreams have come true. I own a sick house, I have fans all over the world, and I've worked on South Park. I banged both Joni Mitchell's and Bowie's goddaughter. I've met the Pope, Reagan, Streisand, Yoko, Iggy, Johnny Rotten, Henry Winkler, Pacino, Charles Nelson Reilly, and most importantly, everyone from SCTV. I've traveled the world, been to Auschwitz, Mount Carmel in Waco after the fire, watched scud missiles peg Tel Aviv... I stood for ten fucking hours in Times Square during New Years in 2000, I ate a two pound placenta, stayed awake for a week and watched three people jump to their death off of bridges as a kid (not sure why I was always around for that?). I've seen and done a bunch of shit, but by now, I'm sick of traveling or sticking around town to go out and do bumps.
My girlfriend wants to have a kid and she's fucking serious about it. So serious that she uses a death grip every time we have sex so I can't pull out. Clearly, she wants me to splooge in her. It's like being stuck in a Costa Rican undertow! Don't get me wrong, She's a great girl. A smart supermodel type that's retardedly hot and young. So much younger than me, in fact, for our first date, I took her to a 'Wiggles' concert. FYI, Michael J. Fox just joined 'The Wiggles'. Too soon? Hope so! I actually have abortions older than my girlfriend.
I've got girls preggers in the past, so many that Morgentaler's license plate is "THX-KNY". I've dealt with quite a few abortions. In fact, every year on Father's Day, I go to the city dump to throw candy at it and wave. I've always felt bad about not keeping my kids and now I'm faced with the reality of actually, voluntarily, having one. I'm scared. My life is amazing. I have no responsibility at all. I can do anything I want. I have cash, plus girls stick their hands down my pants now and then 'cause I'm kind of famous... that, and I usually have a sharpened screwdriver to their necks.
Once, years ago, I was in a fight with some sketchy guy in Toronto. For years I'd see him and we'd always glare at each other. He was a real dick. Then one day I passed him on the street and he was pushing a baby carriage. Alone. When he saw me, he was embarrassed that he had some shitty kid and I was free. We both knew then, that I had won the game of life. That's what I'm scared of now - someone seeing me with some down syndrome Siamese triplets in a bugaboo! When they walk past me, they're going to know they've won, 'cause I'm stuck with three shitty conjoined down syndrome babies and now my life is over.
I guess on the bright side, I can eventually bone my kids' pals, and one day if I live long enough (provided that they're not a meth head) they can keep me alive with space goo or whatever the fuck we'll be eating by then. Fuck. What do I do!?
Originally published in Summer 2012, Issue 6.2