“Where’s my goddamn breakfast, honey? I’m gonna be late for work!”

Mr. Harris was running around in a goddamn frenzy trying to make an important goddamn business meeting at 9:00 a.m.

“It’s on the goddamn table,” Barbara said calmly. “Sit down and eat your goddamn food.”

“It’s cold!” Mr. Harris stormed. “I hate goddamn cold food! I’m leaving!” With that he stormed out the goddamn door, leaving his goddamn wife alone in the kitchen. Barbara cleaned off her husband’s plate and put it in the goddamn dishwasher. She turned around and saw her youngest son Ernest had come downstairs.

“Can I have a goddamn cookie?” Ernest asked. “Give me a goddamn cookie, Mommy!”

“Get your goddamn little ass back upstairs, Ernest!” she stormed. “You know you’re not supposed to be up yet.” Barbara turned on the television. More goddamn bad news and more obnoxious goddamn talk shows. “What’s this goddamn world coming to?” she asked herself.

Barbara went upstairs to check on her baby. She went to the crib and picked up her nine month old infant. The baby was cooing softly.

“There, there, baby...Mommy’s here.”


“She’s saying her first word! She’s saying her first word!” Barbara exclaimed. “Ernest, come here! Your sister’s saying her first word!”

Ernest appeared at the doorway in a somewhat confused and sleepy state. He looked up and stared intently at his sister and mother.

“Guh...guh... Guh...guh...”

“Come on, baby! Say it! Say it!” Ernest and Barbara urged. Then, in an overpowering loud voice the baby screamed her first word.


“She said it, Ernest! Your goddamn little sister said her first goddamn word!”

“Big goddamn deal,” Ernest said as he turned and ran back to his room. “Why is everything around here such a big goddamn deal?”

Barbara ran to the goddamn telephone and called Mr. Harris, who had just finished his goddamn business meeting.

“For God’s sake, Barbara...what’s so goddamn important this early in the morning?”

“The baby said her first word! She said her first goddamn word, Bill!”

“Well, what did she say?”

“She said `goddamn’! I heard it as clear as a goddamn bell. Our baby said `goddamn.’”

Goddamn it!” exclaimed Mr. Harris. “It’s time for a goddamn celebration!”

Mr. Harris went into his goddamn boss’s office and asked for the goddamn afternoon off. His boss gave him immediate goddamn approval. Mr. Harris sped home as fast as he could in his new goddamn convertible. When he entered his goddamn house, everything seemed strangely quiet.

“Where is everyone?” he asked. “Why is it so goddamn quiet around here?”

“The goddamn baby’s dead, Bill!” Barbara cried as she ran toward her husband. “She said `goddamn’ and then the goddamn bitch went and DIED on us!”

Goddamn it!” cried Mr. Harris. “Goddamn it to HELL! Where IS the little troublemaker!?!”

“She’s over there on the goddamn kitchen floor,” Barbara said calmly. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“How’s this for goddamn beginners?” Mr. Harris asked as he reared back his left leg and kicked the baby so hard that she slammed into the side of the wall with a deafening thud.

“Worthless goddamn little slut! Kick her in the face, Barbara! Kick her in the goddamn face!”

“Well, all right,” said Barbara as she delivered a disfiguring, sharp kick to the baby’s face with the tip of her high heeled shoe. “Hey, this is more goddamn fun than when she was alive...only now she doesn’t talk.” Just then Ernest appeared at the doorway.

“What’s going on, Mommy? What’s all the noise?”

“Your goddamn little sister died and now we’re kicking her around the goddamn kitchen! Any more questions?” Barbara shrieked.

“Just one,” Ernest said meekly. “Can I drink her goddamn blood?”

“Why, sure you can!” exclaimed Mr. Harris proudly. He picked up the bruised, lifeless baby and made an incision into her throat which let her blood flow freely into a plastic Daffy Duck mug.

Goddamn blood tastes good!” Ernest exclaimed as excess blood dribbled down the left side of his chin. “I wish I was dead so someone could drink MY goddamn blood.”

“I had the same goddamn idea, Ernest!” said Mr. Harris as he pulled the rifle on his wife and son and within minutes they were nothing more than a warm, red, wet pile of unintelligible mush.

“I’m so goddamn proud of my goddamn family!” he exclaimed as he turned and pointed the rifle at his own goddamn face. He picked up a segment of his deceased wife’s arm and began chewing on it as he stuck the point of the rifle into his mouth.

“This is what goddamn life was meant to be like!” he proclaimed. “Look at all the colors. It’s just like being in a moving picture show. Goddamn. Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn!!!”

This article is reprinted from our fave 'zine babysue,
[ send $2 to babysue, PO Box 8989, Atlanta, GA 30306-8989 ].
babysue can be found online at http://www.babysue.com.

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