Microwave

"Lets have a baby," I said to my wife. We were lying in bed, holding each other with the lights on.

The corners of her mouth pulled back, showing me her teeth that were together, and sucked in air quickly between them. It hissed.

"I can't get lah dee dah~" she sang at the end.

I could barely hear her so I said, "What?"

"I can't get pregnant," she almost yelled.

The room fell silent as we stared into each other's eyes. I took a deep breath and licked my dry lips.

"Wha....what?" I asked as tears gathered in my eyes. I was the last man in my family. It was my job to pass on the bloodline.

She shrugged, "We can adopt or something?"

I bit my bottom lip and closed my eyes, "Why didn't you tell me? Are you sure? Maybe we can check."

"No, I'm sure. And I told you already," she pulled away slightly.

"When?" I looked at her.

"When I told you that story..." she looked at my blank face. I had no idea what she was talking about. "You know the one. When I was younger I stood in front of the microwave because I hated having sex with condoms."

"What the fuck?" was all that passed between my lips.









We're getting a divorce.