Yesterday

Martha screamed at George. "What do you mean, she's pregnant?"

"Yeah, Jessica's pregnant! Three months gone and she's going to keep it. I can't get her to change her mind. She told me yesterday.”

Martha huffed and puffed. Well, he'd have to try. This was way too much of a burden on their marriage. As if they hadn't had enough to deal with: his alcoholism, her hysterectomy, his prostate cancer, her repeated yeast infections, his erectile dysfunction, her hairy upper lip, his infidelities with Swedish yoga instructors -- all those things, enough to derail their 28-year marriage. But this? Jessica being pregnant? How could he let something like this happen?

"Well, it's not exactly my fault, Martha. I'm trying to get her to have an abortion, or at least give it up for adoption, but she's insisting. She wants to keep it and raise it as a single mother."

"A single mother! How ridiculous. She can barely do her laundry, make her bed, and empty her wastebaskets. Managing a baby, how's she ever going to do that?" Martha was sure that, when all was said and done, she and George -- at their age, getting close to 60 -- would have to care for this baby. And all because George was going through his mid-life crisis. Good God, she thought, this child would graduate from college when they were close to 80.

If George was going to have a mid-life crisis, why didn't he just buy a 1966 Corvette Stingray like Bob Smith did not long after he started combing all his hair over one side to cover his bald spot? No, he had to do this! And now Jessica was pregnant and they were in a fix. George had to go out and buy a twin-engine speed boat and hire the captain who got their 19-year old daughter pregnant.

"Shit, George, wait just a minute. She told you yesterday? You kept this to yourself for a whole day?”