A Letter From My Unborn Child

Written in direct response to my earlier Letter to My Unborn Child.

Dear Sir,

I have received your recent letter, and while it was nice to hear from you finally needless to say I’m somewhat taken aback at your tone.  I have to decry your attitude towards me, your still unconceived offspring, and toward parenthood in general, as being surprisingly awful and offensive.  Any plans I may have had for a life as your child are now officially, indefinitely on hold.  I’ve refunded my ticket on the Womb Express, and have cancelled my massive binky order from Binkys N Things.

So maybe your letter wasn’t written with the intention of wanting me to come popping out of a vagina and into your waiting arms, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings, does it?  You think just because you don’t want me it gives you license to treat me with such abuse?  What kind of way is that for an adult to behave?  What sort of productive member of society must you be?  I shudder to think.

Let me sketch out my idea of your future, O exalted father.  Your brazenly harsh and ignorant attitude toward fatherhood ultimately drives away any female companionship you may have somehow secured, and you go on to live a long, long lonely life, watching your friends scorn and shun you as they have many joyous years with their children and you have to make do with your own sorry, wretched, mothball smelling self in your old age.  Ultimately you die wealthy but poor in spirit and alone, with only the bare walls around you to hear your last words, which will probably be something about how you should’ve eaten less pork sausage.

How’s that sound?  Barrel of yuks that, huh? Looking forward to retirement now, are you?  Listen, I’m not trying to be cruel.  You’ve made your thoughts clear to me, and I just wanted to respond in kind.  You think I’d want to stumble into living now knowing I’ve got you as a role model?  As a provider?  As an acquaintance of any sort?  I could only hope to suffer the joys of crib death, providing you haven’t decided to toss me on the mercy of the state for my upbringing.

Any future correspondence from you will be sent to my solicitor.  Please do not bother contacting me again, as I have no interest in continuing this inter-dimensional, phantasmagorical conversation any longer.  Let me close by saying I may have been a Nobel Prize winner someday, I may have been the first person to walk on Venus, I may have been President someday, given the lax qualifications it now requires, but thankfully neither of us will ever know.  I hope you secretly live near nuclear waste and go sterile for humanity’s sake.

Yours in perpetuity,

Junior