Past Due

The phone jingles to life.

She doesn't want to answer. She won't answer it. She knows who it is. Just another Buttinsky calling to ask the most annoying question in the world. She doesn't want to hear the question again. She hears it at the supermarket. She hears it at playground. She even hears it in her sleep.

"When are you going to have this baby?"

She's trying. She really is; the due date was only two days ago. If she could have she would have had the baby three months ago when she felt like her stomach couldn't possibly balloon out any further. She'd been wrong.

The voice mail alert sounds on her phone. She picks it up and sees that there have been thirty six missed calls. She's willing to bet that over half are from her mother-in-law, and her obnoxious brother-in-law who doesn't just call to ask about the baby. No, that clown also calls to harass her about the baby's name. As if his name were any better. It sounds like a Slave Trader's name.

A deep rumbling grows from beneath her belly. A twinge of pain. Could this be it? Will she finally go into labor? Is this going to be the day that her daughter will breathe its first breath?

BBBBBBBRRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPTTTTT!

Even she is amazed by the power behind this particular bugle call. That was a fart that would rival even her husband's all too powerful emissions. That was one thing that she would miss about being pregnant; the completely excusable, and often times just wonderful flatulence. No one tells you about the accompanying gas in sex ed classes. She was going to miss it.

She heaves herself off of the couch, and waddles towards the kitchen. Her cravings aren't very specific. They conform to whatever groceries are currently in the fridge. She'd go shopping but she doesn't want to hear the question again.

Macaroni salad sounds good. She extends her arm, and simultaneously rips a juicy fart that she's pretty sure rattled the window panes. She can't help but smile a little.

The phone rings in the other room. She knows who's calling and she knows why they are calling but part of her wishes it was a neighbor calling to check on her.

"Are you alright? We just heard the loudest thunderclap, and it sounded like it came from your kitchen."

Then her husband's voice, slapping her a mental high five. "Good one, Honey."