Saturday, September 26, 2009

Deirdre

So, Deirdre.

Well, not long after the whole explosive breakup with Judy, Dina and I were settling back into the base when she goes into labor. And, since the father, my "good friend" Captain Visigoth is god only knows where, I had to take the pregnant half-jöttun to the hospital. Let me tell you, they are going to be repairing that maternity ward for a while. I mean, she was in labor for twevle hours at least, and every time she thrashed or kicked with that super strength of hers behind it, something blew up.

At some point I got so tired even the sounds of her destroying the hospital started to lull me to sleep, so I dozed off in like the only remaining chair around.

Now, some of you might be thinking: why didn't you go in there and hold her hand or something? What kind of gentleman are you? Answer: The kind that enjoys having non-broken bones. She's not my wife, I'm not going to put myself in intensive care for her. It kind of feels good to be able to say that without Judy punching me.

Anyway, when I woke up, the doctors were trying to hand me what I could only assume was Dina's baby, saying congratulations in the tone one uses when a gun is pointed at them.

The conversation went something like this:

"I'm not the father."

"The mother threatened us unless we processed her signing over custody to you."

"WTF"

"Sorry man."

In essence, Dina decided she didn't really want a kid either, so she didn't even bother naming her daughter before skipping town. Turns out if your mom's a frost giant, having a kid doesn't slow you down much. So Dina used the only tool she knows--brute force--and got her daughter adopted by me while I was asleep and then took off, probably to try to find her errant husband.

In hindsight, I should have expected something like this after she asked what my signature was like.

So, I named her Deirdre Elizabeth Ferrian, after my grandmother and sister. And because I am both a tool and a doormat, she's now my kid.

Yep, I am now raising a baby that's half Germanic Demigod and a quarter Frost Giant.

I am not looking forward to the Terrible Twos.

But, I mean, it's been alright so far. Sure, she cries a lot but there's a seventy-thirty chance I'm awake anyway at any given time working on something anyway. And she's cute--I can already tell she'll be better looking than either of her parents when she grows up.

And woe to any boy who tries to take advantage of her. I'm already gearing up and excited for when I can threaten people when she's a teenager.

Anyway, I got a couple evil plans cooking up, more on that later.

3 comments:

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  2. I've been meaning to say it, Dr.; welcome back. Somehow, I think raising children makes a guy want to write more. Here's to keeping up the good work. I've only got eight more years (unless, you know), so maybe I can meet her when she's in fourth grade. At least they give me Internet access (supervised) twice a week, so I can keep up with life out there, unlike my poor cellmate, whose hacking skills have disqualified him. He gets basketball instead -- which I think is pretty ironic.

    Have you thought about school yet? I know, I know, it's a little early. I think Montessori might be a good choice for her -- it encourages independence.

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  3. I think I might homeschool her or something, actually. I don't have a whole lot of faith in schools, myself--dropped out my sophmore year of high school to start henching. We live in a pretty awesome era for the home school. Plus, watching me work she'll get some work experience, too.

    And hey, good to know I have some fans on the inside. Good luck in there and all. Have to admit, worst I've ever seen have been a couple years of juvie lockup and that one three-month period I was banished to a side-dimension when the old Doc's dimension-shift beam backfired.

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