Sally straightened, looked down at the toilet bowl, and grimaced. Despite the fact that it had become her closest companion over the last few weeks, she didn’t feel even a flicker of affection for the wretched, stinky thing. She stood up and flushed away the vomit.
“Damn, woman, you really know how to get yourself into a mess,” she lectured herself for the ten thousandth time since her pregnancy had started making itself felt.
The doorbell chimed brightly.
“Eurgh!” Sally muttered grouchily, “That better be someone with chocolate. Or peanut butter. Or fried rice with pickles!” She made a face at what pregnancy cravings had done to her. Peanut butter? Gross. But she still yummed it up while grimacing at the taste. Because the alien wanted it.
The doorbell chimed brightly again, interrupting Sally’s maudlin mutterings.
“Coming!” she yelled. She threw on a pair of trackies and a dressing gown, shambled down the hall, and threw open the door.
“George!” she exclaimed, delighted.
“That’s right, sweetpea, I’m back from Belgium – and I brought chocolate!” said George cheerfully. “Errrr…” he slowed, suddenly noticing the state of the place, the state of Sally and the slight smell of vomit in the air. “Have I come at a bad time, love? Out partying without me last night?”
“I wish!” grumbled Sally, and led him down the hall into the kitchen. “George – damn I’ve missed you!” Her eyes filled with sudden tears.
“Sal! Sweetpea!” George said, and pulled her into a hug, “What have you gotten yourself into?”
Sally disengaged from the hug eventually, made them both a cup of herbal tea, and sat down to explain.
“Well!” said George brightly when she was finished, “That’s… umm…” he stared carefully into his near-empty cup. “This wasn’t, umm… THAT sort of herbal tea, was it love? Because I could’ve sworn I just heard you tell me that you got abducted by aliens and now you’re pregnant with a half-alien, half-human crossbreed freak…”
Sally smiled wryly. “No pot in the teapot, George,” she said, “Damn, I wish there was.”
George hesitated. “Darl… is there a chance you’ve gone utterly mad?”
Sally shrugged. “There’s always a chance,” she said, “but I’m definitely up the duff, George. So I think the rest of it’s true too. Bizarre, but true. And I can’t tell a soul because the smart bitch made my name mud! She’s even got the newspapers in on the act now. I’m the evil woman who duped thousands of innocent souls into loving me, yada yada… Today Tonight are lapping it up, the arseholes. Can you imagine what they’ll do if they find out I’m pregnant, too? Dear God…”
George frowned. “Love, you’ve lost the plot,” he said kindly, “but never fear, I’ll look after you, you cute little psycho! Come on, come and have a lie-down and I’ll make you some… what was it? Fried rice with pickles?”
Sally nodded pathetically and obeyed.
Sally had booked herself into the best ultrasound clinic with the most skilled staff she could find. She couldn’t publicise it, but damned if she was going to sit around listening to George’s careful tiptoeing around ‘the crazy girl’ for one more day. Today she was going to prove a point.
The ultrasound technician called them in, and beamed kindly.
“Right, mum, up on the table – let’s see how bub is going in there, hey? Dad, you can sit on that chair and hold her hand if you like!” Having gotten Sally comfortable and her belly exposed correctly, he squished a large amount of freezing cold jelly onto it.
Sally squeaked in reflex.
“Oh! Sorry, love, it is a bit cold!” said the technician absently, moving the ultrasound wand over the jelly. “Now, what can we see… aha! There’s bub! There’s his head, see? And an arm – awww, he’s sucking his thumb!”
“See?” Sally whispered to George, “LOOK at that thing! It’s an alien foetus!”
“Oh no, love, they all look like that at this age!” said the technician, smiling, “It’s a wee bit weird, but that’s just how they develop!”
George raised an eyebrow significantly. Sally swore quietly.
“Now, did you want to know the sex?” the technician asked cheerily.
“Well, let’s have a look… oh, that way’s not going to work, the cheeky rascal’s crossing his legs – ah! there we are, it’s a…” he trailed off, puzzled.
“It’s a WHAT?” Sally said, craning her neck to see the screen.
“I’m not sure!” said the technician, zooming in carefully. “I could’ve sworn I saw a dangly bit, but it disappeared right in front of my eyes!”
“Ahhh, either he’s shy, or it’s too cold in there!” George joked.
The technician laughed automatically, but a frown stayed lingering around his eyes as he finished the ultrasound and bundled them out the door.