My sister says it again.
Big Momma wont want you, she says.
Ive told her before how sick I am of her saying that, but she doesnt listen. She never listens. So for once I decide not to waste my time think-speaking at all. Instead I wait until shes asleep, then I reach out with both hands - these stupid arms are still too thin, too short, the hands and fingers still arent big enough - and I grab her umbilical cord. My right hand grabs it about a fists width from the point where it disappears into her fat belly, my left twists in below. Her umbilical is more than double the width of mine, and thats why shes big and Im little. Theres nothing I can do about that. Baby, baby, life aint fair, sings Big Momma when shes in a blue mood, and shes right. I learned that one early - as soon as I realized my pig of a sister was slurping up, not just her own share of Big Mommas Good Stuff, but at least half of my share, too.
I stop a moment and look at her - Ive got great nocturnal vision - floating beside me. Shes upside-down, or I am. Its all relative. I shake my head and tell myself Im probably about to make a bad mistake, because even asleep my Pig-Sister is the biggest, ugliest, nastiest, most threatening thing in my current universe - and I know she hates my recently-formed guts. When you think about it, its amazing that Ive survived as long as I have.
No, I really shouldnt do this, I know I shouldnt. But right now Im angry. Right now Ive simply had enough of the Big Momma wont want you crap and I want a little satisfaction. A little revenge. So I go for it. I tighten my grip on Pig-Sisters umbilical, squeeze as hard as I can, and give it a good yank.
She wakes up and her thought-yelp screams inside my head. Hey, you scum-bag! What the hell
She tears my hands away from her cord and lashes out with her right foot. The heel connects with the side of my head, but even her feet are padded with fat so it doesnt hurt. Not much, anyway.
Ive told you before, I yell. Youve got no right to say what you say. You dont know. You dont know what Big Momma feels about me!
Pig-Sister expands herself, taking up even more of my personal space. She could finish me off in seconds, and we both know it.
Listen, you little dork, she says. In case you havent noticed, Im more than twice your size now, and getting bigger all the time. The only reason youre still alive is I dont want your dead body floating around in here and polluting my fluids. You got that?
I consider going for her, but decide against it. What would be the point? I settle for a glare of what I hope looks like defiance. But I also nod.
Good. Now, let me tell you something else. I doubt that youre actually gonna survive Big Mommas labour - I sincerely hope you dont - but if you touch my cord again, if you lay one shitty little finger on it, I guarantee youll never know one way or the other. You wont make it that far.
She kicks me a good one. Same spot. Harder this time.
Well, dork?
Well what?
Have I made myself clear?
I dont answer fast enough, so she lashes out again. Fat or no-fat, that foot of hers is hurting now. I see her pull her leg back a fourth time.
All right, I say. Yeah, youve made yourself clear. Now lay off me.
She smiles, deliberately showing vicious gums. If I didnt know better Id swear shes already got a full set of teeth.
And one more thing
What?
If you dont want that pathetic excuse for a penis chewed off, youd better get the damn thing out of my face!
I drop my hands and cover myself. I dont think shed go that far - but I know from past experience its better to be safe than sorry. I try to twist around, aiming to turn my back on her, but its not easy. Were eight-monthers now and theres just no room for manoeuvre any more.
Gradually we settle back into our customary mutual disregard.
I curl up and listen to the noises outside. Big Momma has friends around for coffee and I hear her muffled voice coming through the walls. I like her voice. When Im born, I hope she likes my voice. I hope she likes me. I hope she likes me better than she likes Pig-Sister.
Big Mommas laughing about her babies banging around inside of her. Our womb tilts, and somebody else laughs, and hands are pressing her belly and my temple hurts where Pig-Sister kicked me. I force myself not to rub it. Shes watching, I know she is, and I wont give her the satisfaction.
I close my eyes and try to calm down, but my heads exploding with the thought that if Big Momma goes full-term, Ive got another month of this, and to tell the truth Im not sure I can handle it. Its a lethal combination - endless waiting in a confined space with your sworn enemy. There are times when it gets so bad I think about biting through my own cord and ending it all, almost before its begun.
But then I think about the girl. The one who reckons shes Born to be Wild. That girls my secret, my inner strength. Shes the reason I know Ill get through these dark times. I think back...
You know, it wasnt always like this. I remember the first few weeks after conception, and they dont seem so bad now - better than the present, anyway. Its true that floating around inside another human being is never going to be my idea of fun - but at least in those early days there was room to move, to stretch, to thrash about a bit. Didnt seem like much at the time, but it was. You live and you learn, I guess. Unfortunately, while youre living and learning, you also grow.
Theres another song that sums the situation up for me, one Big Momma sings. Big Momma likes her music, and when she cleans the house, she sings. Sometimes she sings this old song about a big yellow taxi. It comes through OK - not exactly hi-fi, but good enough to make out the lyrics and the tune. Dont it always seem to go that you dont know what youve got til its gone? Whoever wrote that song knew a thing or two. Take it from me, once you hit that seven-month mark, baby, thats when the claustrophobia really hits home. Especially if you have to share the place.
Thats Pig Sisters biggest problem, I guess. Shes just no damn good at sharing.
You know what? When Im born Im gonna track down the guy (you can bet your life it wasn't a woman) who designed the womb and Im gonna set him straight on a few basic facts. He got so much wrong, in my humble opinion. I mean, its not just the lack of space. Theres also the dearth of on-board entertainment, which is a disgrace in this day and age. Jesus, is it any wonder every foetus Ive ever met has been psychotic? What else can you expect when theres nothing to do in these Waiting Wombs but listen to the thump of Big Mommas heartbeat, or maybe count the gurgles in her guts? OK, so you can measure how much your arms and legs have grown, or you can finger-press your fontanel to see if you can prod your own brain, but that soon gets old. Even the thrill of finally being able to suck your thumb (once youve developed a mouth to suck with, and a thumb to suck) doesnt last long.
The one time I got a little relief from the ennui was back when we were just five-monthers and Pig-Sister wasnt quite such a monster. Big Momma had taken the three of us off to some clinic, and all the time we were there I kept hearing voices. Theyd come and theyd go. The Pig didnt seem to notice, but that didnt surprise me. Shes not what you might call sensitive.
There I was, floating around, minding my own business, and suddenly I heard:
This womans an idiot. A complete idiot. Just my luck to have
It wasnt the Pig. Different accent, different voice. Then I heard another one.
Its dark. Its so dark. Maybe I could dig a tunnel
It took me a while to figure out what was happening, but I got there in the end. The place must have been packed with other Big Mommas, dozens of them, and whenever one went waddling by I was getting blasted by foetal thought-waves. Im used to the crap my sister pumps out - its usually about food, or the Barbie dolls shes heard about on Big Mommas TV, or how much she hates me - but I didnt know until then that I could pick up stations from outside, as it were. It was welcome stimulation, but at the same time pretty scary. Believe me, there are some truly messed-up foetuses sloshing around out there.
There was one guy in particular who kept repeating the same thing over and over in this weird, high-pitched thought-scream. Christ on a stick theres no ROOM for THREE! Christ on a stick theres no ROOM for THREE! Over and over again, like hed really lost it. I remember thinking that maybe I wasnt so badly off after all. One thing for sure, his Momma was in for some fun once he and his siblings popped out.
And then I heard her. The girl. My very own secret, the girl Im gonna find one day. I liked the sound of her straight away because she was singing a song Big Momma sometimes sings - Born To Be Wild - and overlaying some fine syncopated beats on her own Mommas lower ribs.
Get your motor runnin'
Head out on the highway
Lookin' for adventure
And whatever comes our way
Yeah Darlin' go make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space
Like a true nature's child
We were born, born to be wild
We can climb so high
I never wanna die
I was mesmerised. I could almost see her bopping about inside the womb, and I wished then with all my heart that I was sharing with this girl, this true natures child, instead of being incarcerated with The Pig. Me and her, we could have had some fun together.
And you know what? If I have my way, one day we will have some fun. Whatever Pig-Sister says, Im gonna get born, and Im gonna live my life and Big Mommas gonna love me, and Im gonna love her back. And then one day when Im strong and healthy - when Im BIG - Im gonna track down that girl and show her that we were made for each other. Yeah. Well get ourselves together and we'll rev up our motors and we'll head out on the highway and we'll do every damn thing we can do to make that old song come true.
Thats my dream. That's how its gonna be.
Believe me.