Tommy walked into the bar, sat down, and nodded at the bartender.
“You don’t look so good man,” Bartender.
“Just got dumped,” Tommy.
“No… Bloody Mary tonight. I didn’t get dinner.”
“Next best thing.”
The bartender started to make the drink. “You didn’t need her anyway. Cherry was nothing but trouble.”
“I thought you said you didn’t give advice.”
“I’m tired of you coming in here bitching about her. You can do better.”
Tommy noticed a black woman at the end of the bar staring at him intently.
“Motherfucker!” she yelled at him.
Tommy looked around confused.
“What?” he asked.
“You dirty motherfucker!”
“I don’t even know you, lady.”
“Don’t you fucking lie to me!”
“What the hell are you-“
She stood up and he realized she was pregnant.
“I’m gonna cut your nasty pale white balls off; that’s what I’m going to do.”
She came towards him.
“Lady,” Tommy couldn’t stop staring at her third trimester belly.
She walked right up to him and slapped him three times before he could grab her hands, and then she kicked in in the balls.
Tommy went down and two bouncers grabbed the pregnant woman and dragged her out the door into the cold night. It was Detroit after all.
“What in fucking hell?” Tommy yelled as he cradled his balls.
“You OK man?” Bartender.
“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“What did you do to her?”
“I don’t even know her. What’s a pregnant woman doing getting hammered in here anyway?”
“She wasn’t even drinking.”
“Crazy fucking pregnant bitch.”
“Probably some kind of hormonal thing.”
Tommy sat back down on his stool and rested his forehead down on the edge of the bar and breathed heavily.
“If you’re going to be sick do it in the bathroom.”
“Worst fucking day… Why is every woman crazy?”
“Back to that again. You didn’t even love Cherry.”
“Oh God… But she was amazing in bed. Sex in the morning, twice at night. And when she gave head it was like sticking your dick into an air lock, being sucked out by the vacuum of space.”
“Best you ever had?”
“The best. I just hated the condoms.”
“God knows where she had been. A stripper is an unclean woman”
“That was her choice. It had been over a year since she stopped stripping and started working at the clinic.”
The bar door opened and the pregnant woman came back in with a very large black man this time.
“That’s him! Get that motherfucker!” she yelled.
The black man pointed his finger directly at Tommy like a bolt of lightning.
“You!” he said in a deep voice.
The bouncers came over again but kept a bit of distance from the man.
“I got something for you,” the black man said.
The black man reached into his jacket and Tommy almost fell over thinking he might be going for a gun. Instead, out popped a vanilla envelope.
“Tommy Walker. I hereby serve you. You sick son of a bitch,”
He handed Tommy the envelope and then left dragging the pregnant woman by the arm.
The bartender gestured to the envelope. “Well, open it.”
Tommy did and read the first page.
“Class action lawsuit… What the hell?”
He handed the first page over to the bartender who began to read it while Tommy started in on the second page.
Tommy’s cell rang and he answered while still reading.
“Not now Paul.”
“No man, you gotta turn on the TV and go to the news station.”
“Can you turn to a news station?” Tommy asked the bartender.
The bartender flipped to a local news station where two announcers, a blond woman, and a white man were laughing.
“And apparently the number of women impregnated is now confirmed to be over 127 in the Detroit Metropolitan Area alone.”
“And that number is still going up?”
“Yes Bob, and what’s really scary is the fact that the clinic apparently had over two thousand patients attempting to conceive with a demographic of roughly 95% African American.”
“Why such a high percent?”
“Well apparently they marketed one donor as, and I quote, ‘Former Pro Basketball Player for the Detroit Pistons, at a height of 7’2, 225 lbs., with an IQ of 175, an MD from Michigan State, and currently a very successful Orthopedic Surgery practice, also fluent in three languages.”
“At least they wanted the best for their children.”
Both the announcers chuckled.
“But the real donor currently known as “The Father of Detroit” is actually this man.”
Tommy’s picture showed up on the screen. It was taken at a Halloween party three years prior. Tommy was drunk, wearing a white wig, and holding a gun in one hand a bottle of wine in the other.
“Oh yeah, he’s a winner.”
Both the announcers laughed again.
“Wow,” the bartender said.
Paul started laughing on the cell.
“I’ll call you back,” Tommy hung up his cell and looked around the bar.
Most of the patrons were looking at him and whispering to each other. A few black women were glaring at him.
Tommy called Cherry.
“Are you calling her?”
“What are you going to say?”
“Not a clue.”
Cherry picked up.
“You fucking bitch!” Tommy.
“Don’t call me a bitch.” Cherry
“You fucking crazy bitch! Who the fuck steals semen? What kind of stinking whore would do something like that? Why? Why didn’t you just steal money?”
“You didn’t have any.”
“Not from me! From anyone else but your boyfriend.”
“You’re not my boyfriend anymore.”
“Who gives a shit! You’re insane?”
“Tommy, I don’t have time for this.”
“What the fuck else could you be doing? What are you, stealing kidneys from orphans right now?”
“I’m about to board my flight and I’m really not in the mood to have this conversation.”
“Fuck your mood! Goddamn army of second, and third trimester black women are after me. Do you have any idea what they are going to do to me?”
“Not my problem.”
“How the fuck isn’t this your problem? You dump this pile of shit on me and then-“
“Look! I have to get on my PLANE. Do you understand? And I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“Fuck my tone! You have to do something. You’ve got to tell them I had nothing to do with this!”
“Well it was your semen.”
She hung up.
He dialed her back. No pick up.
“Hi! It’s Cherry, leave me a message and have a great day!” BEEP.
“Cherry! You evil fucking bitch!”
He hung up and then called her again, but this time it went straight to voicemail.
He hung up and drank half his bloody marry in a few gulps.
“What the hell am I going to do?”
“I think you should get the fuck out of Dodge before they lynch you.” Bartender.
Three of the black women got up and came over to him.
“Don’t say lynch.” Tommy.
“What was that?” The heavy set one asked.
“Are you with child?” Tommy asked.
“Why would I be with child?”
He looked at her girth and just shrugged his shoulders and sighed.
“Oh Jesus.” Tommy.
“Why would I be with child?”
“Sorry, this has just been the most fucking absurd day of my life.”
“It ain’t over yet,” said one of two new pregnant women who were now behind him.
“And where did you come from princess?”
Tommy drank his bloody marry and finished with a long exhale.
“Just run man,” the bartender whispered.
Tommy ran for his car as a dozen black pregnant women charged after him, heaving, titties shaking, asses rolling, and guts undulating in the cold night.
And so the Father of Detroit was born…