Prompt/Iron Chef: Another "Scene that Should Not Be" that randomly occurred to me.

"Here's the plan," Jane said. "There's an invoice book behind the counter that should tell us who bought my last painting. But, you'll have to distract Gary while I'm grabbing."

"And just how am I supposed to do that, Mr. Phelps?"

"You'll figure out something. Use your womanly attributes," Jane said teasingly.

"Gotcha. I'll give birth."

"That'll work."

They went inside Gary's Gallery to find Gary standing in the middle of the room, writing on a clipboard. He looked up as they entered.

"Hey, Jane, how's that Dali coming along? I think I can pre-sell it."

"Great, great," she said distractedly. "Uh, Gary, this is my friend, Daria. She's...very interested in art recreations."

"Um, yes," Daria said unconvincingly. "I am very interested in...oh." She grabbed her stomach.

"Are you alright?" Gary asked, as Jane slipped away behind his desk.

"Yeah, just...a little queasy. And lightheaded, now that I think of it. I—oh. AAGGHH!"

"Here, maybe you should sit down...is it the paint? Sometimes the paint fumes can make people a bit woozy..."

Jane looked away from Gary's papers just long enough to see him take out a folding chair and help Daria into her seat. To her surprise, her friend's face looked quite sweaty all of a sudden, and was contorting into various shows of discomfort.

"Thanks, I'm not sure what—AAGGHH! Oh no! I think the baby's coming!"

"The baby?!" asked Gary, alarmed. "Um—are you sure? You don't look—"

"AGH! MY WATER BROKE!" Daria screamed, and Jane looked up so quickly that she cricked her neck.

"Oh, goodness—! Did you two drive here? I could take you to the hospital myself if—"

"I don't think there's time," Daria grunted, her breathing labored. "It's—it's—AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!"

"I can't believe this," Jane said an hour later, as she sat, stunned, beside Daria's hospital bed. "I thought you were faking!"

"I was, at first. Kind of threw me for a loop when the contractions started feeling real."

"I didn't even think that you and Tom had slept together!"

"We haven't."

"You have—? Then who—?"

"Nobody. Honestly, I'm as confused as you are." Daria adjusted blankets in her arms to look into her newborn son's face. "Hey, what do you think about 'Jesús Morgendorffer?' Trendy or just too out there?"