A Shot In The Arm

My Dear Fellows & Dear Princess,

I got a free flu jag today, all MPI employees get it, and even though I'm a contractor they include me too. I guess they don't want me spreading my paid-by-the-hour germs all over the place.

Getting the jag is pretty dull. First, you have to sit and wait to be called, then you have to sit and wait for another 20 minutes so they can check that you haven't had a bad reaction to it and died. Consequently I arranged to accompany Lemon so at least we'd have some chat.

While chatting, Lemon reminded me of a story she told last week, but I forgot to recount to you. Apparently her youngest son (he's 9) took her aside and asked her very earnestly how to NOT make babies.

"What?" asked Lemon.

"How do you NOT make babies?" he repeated. "I want to know."

"Well, the BEST, most 100% way of NOT making babies is to NOT have sex," she replied. 

This puzzled him.

"But I thought you made babies by mixing up sperm with an egg?" he asked. He was accurate, observed Lemon, but he made it sound like a recipe.

"Well, yes," agreed Lemon. "But it's not like the sperm just LEAPS over there to the egg."

Wouldn't that be something though? I have a mental picture of a woman keeping errant sperm at bay with a fly-swat.

Something terrible was dawning on Lemon's son. 

"You mean you and dad had THE SEX to make the four of us?"

"Don't think about it," replied Lemon. "No good ever comes of that."

And with that, she was called away for her jag. She took AGES. This is because it was her first flu jag in a while and she had to have the big chat about possible side effects. Me, not so much.

"Have you had the vaccination before?" asked the nurse.

I told her that I had, and she stabbed me. 

Lemon and me sat for 20 more minutes, eating our "Brave Little Warrior" lollies and remarking that we were both getting paid by the hour for this.

There are worse ways to spend a Thursday.

S.