Chapter 25: Fitty cent minus half.
The panting began to fill the room as Bret went deeper into his labor.
"BREATHE!" Edward yelled, cazily. "GOD, MAN! WE'RE LOSING HIM!"
"I am breathing," Bret said. "That's what the panting is. I'm breathing quite a lot. This is some quality breathing. Award winning breathing, even! Why, if my breathing was a president, it would be Abraham Lincoln!"
"That's some good breathing," Jacob nodded. "Good. Breathing." He nodded again, slower this time. You could tell he was a connoisseur of the breathing art.
"Wait" beat "wait" beat "wait" R. Kelly's soulful voice filled the air once more. "Who's the daddy of the midget midget midget…"
The two men I loved most paused and looked at each other, eyeing the other sceptically. "I am," they both said at once.
"YOU!" Edward screamed, pointing at Jacob.
"IT IS I!" Jacob replied in the same manner as before. He paused, as though a thought were hitting him. "Oh my gawd! I'm gonna be a daddy!" He jumped around, giddily. "Ohmygawdohmygawd!" He began getting more nervous. "Oh what to do! What can be done! Oh worry! Oh fear!"
Whatever it was that Jacob was doing, I wasn't sure if I condoned it. He seemed to be dancing around in some sort of interpretative art performance. As though trying to harvest each of his feelings into one sleek movement. It wasn't working.
"Now is not the time to worry!" Edward embraced Jacob as if he was trying to stop his emotions from pouring out through the vehical of dance. "We need to move on to the next step of the delivery!" for once Edward was making some sort of sense.
"You need to engage the baby so it will go to the pelvis," I squinched my eyebrows together still trying to figure out how the baby would come from Bret's little rockstar. I knew that baby's could squish, but not that much. NOT THAT MUCH!
"ENGAGE THE BABY YOU SAY!" Edward pointed a fervent finger to the ceiling. "Why I know the art of proposal! I just did mere months ago. First! I must ask for the father's permission, which is me. Edward?" he conversed with himself. "Yes Edward? May I marry your soon the be born spawn? WHY OF COURSE MI BOY!" he patted himself on the back. "I couldn't think of a better son!"
"Perfect!" Jacob clapped with delight. I, on the other hand, buried my face further into my hands. It wasn't everyday that one lost brain cells from simply being near stupid people. "Now we just need a ring!"
"Here!" John slipped off his gold and pewter wedding band. "This is of little meaning to me, considering I basically cheat on my wife with a new girl every few years. Not that we have sex…that would be highly illegal, and I am catholic after all."
"GREAT!" Edward snatched the ring and was down on one knee in one movement. "Spawn of Brett," he began with a nervous lilt in his voice. "I know you haven't met me yet ,but I truly am a good man."
"OH DEAR GOD!" I screamed, the ridiculousness of the situation trying my last nerve.
"BELLA! Now is not the time for praying! We pray at the wedding ceremony! Now, dear Spawn," he began again. "Would you marry me!" he held the ring towards Bret's nether regions as if the babies tiny hand would grab it.
"OH GOD!" Bret screamed, shaking the walls around him. "IT'S COMING!"
"Wow!" Edward looked quite pleased with himself. "I know I'm a charmer, but I must be getting better with age. Like a fine wine I'm becoming more and more irresistible!"
"Edward, you knew from the beginning of our being together that you were irresistible. Why else do you think I married you? It's clearly not because of your mind or your abilities in the bedroom," I said blandly.
"You know nothing, woman. Get back in the kitchen and go… iron something," Edward scoffed, ignoring, for the moment, the fact that Bret was screaming louder than a twelve year old girl meeting the Jonas Brothers for the first time. He turned back to his weave-clad rocker, remembering the task at hand. "Oh! Rigth! Breathe!" he said.
Bret breathed. Bret breathed many times, in fact. He was becoming a champion in the ways of breathing while in labour.
"He has to push too!" Jacob remembered. "I saw that on a documentary once! There was this fat woman but then there were eight kids and then her husband cheated on her. It was a hit tv show for a while. I think it's died down though."
"Oh right!" Edward nodded in agreement, grabbing a bunch of bricks. "Here, love, push these! You can push them in whichever direction you want."
Bret looked sceptically at the bricks before him, unsure of what to do.
"Perhaps these are too much…" Jacob searched around in his bag, pulling out a toy car. "This is a lot easier to push. And you can make racecar noises while doing it! You know… like… 'vroom' and stuff!"
Bret took the car and pushed with all his pregnant might, driving it around on the floor as his contracting stomach began to contract more frequently and with greater force.
A large scream erupted from Bret, and then a foreign sound. A sound that was not the wailing of a baby being stripped from the confines of a womb. It was a sound that was most deadly. Deadly to the ears, and unfortunately to me, who was sitting by Bret's penis/vagina, deadly to the nose.
"OH DEAR LORD JESUS IN HEAVEN!" I screamed plugging my nose, struggling to get as far away from the scent that enveloped me as the loudest fart in the universe finished it symphony.
"Hmmm. Now would be a god time for Praying I suppose," Edward quipped, his breathing powers in the off position.
"Where's the baby? We dailated, engaged, Bret breathed. What else do we need to do?" Jacob looked concerned, confused, and disappointed all in one facial expression.
"IT WASN'T BABY!" revealed what had just happened. "DEFINTELY NOT A BABY! JUST A LITTLE CRAZY! BUT HE JUST BLEW A LARGE CHEESY TOASTY…Toasty…toasty!"
"YOU!" I screamed, pointing my finger in an Edward-like manner. Finally being able to reclaim my wits, I discovered where I had smelled a fart like Bret's before.
"Yes hunny!" Edward pet my head patronizingly, "That's Bret Michaels. I know this has taken you a long time, but I know, he's a huge star. Try to act normal though. He hates it when girls croon over him."
"NO!" I screamed flailing about manically. "IT'S NOT BRET MICHAELS AT ALL!"
"Bella… you crazy. You so crazy!" Edward chortled. "Who do you think it is? The artist formally known as unpronounceable symbol formally known and now known again as Prince?"
"I wish," I sighed slightly, regretting the decision moments after for it forced me to take in another lungful of air. "It's the man. From the airplane. With…" I paused for dramatic effect. The room went silent. It felt good to have all eyes on me for a change, instead of on someone else who was not the lead character of the story. "The burritos!" I finished dramatically. If the moment were being filmed, there would be a supreme close up on my face after the statement had been finished.
Everyone held their breath. I wasn't sure if it was because they were processing the truth or if they didn't want to take in the odour which was still emanating from the rear end of Bret Michales.
"It…." Edward looked horrified as he glanced towards Bret and his weave. "It can't be…"
"It can be," Bret replied, hanging his head in shame, although the hanging lasted only for a short moment as he realized this brought him closer to the stench. "I… I'm sorry Edward. I had to hide my thoughts from you. My true self. I knew you would be able to accept me for the monster I am, if only given the chance to see my outer self first…"
"That makes no sense!" I said. "What is that even supposed to mean! And why do you eat things that give you the runs anyway? You're diabetic!"
"I'm what?" Bret asked, clearly confused over my proper pronunciation of the disease.
"Dee-a-bee-tuc," Jacob explained, speaking for the first time since the incident. "I can't believe this…" he looked uncomfortable. But not with the uncomfort of someone who'd just experienced a gassious attack, but rather the uncomfort of a teenage boy who gets too excited when delivering a presentation infront of class while wearing tight pants.
"I… I just… I imprinted on that fart."