I thought I couldn’t get pregnant. My husband said women couldn’t get pregnant from Neandertals because they were animals, and people couldn’t have babies with animals. I asked my husband how many times he’d tried. He snorted.
I first attributed my growing belly to the horse balls the Neandertal fed me. He had patiently boiled the giant treats, fried them in animal fat, then seasoned them with herbs. I ate two of them one morning. Then I put one inside, where it broke apart. Soonafter I dreamt a foal’s head and feet emerged from my vulva.
Then husband confronted me: Was I sure it was his baby I carried? I told him he must have made me pregnant when he was passed out. He said he was limp when he was out. I told him he didn’t know that. He said he knew from his last wife. I said I’m not his last wife. He said at least his last wife didn’t fuck Lowlifes. He called me a sodomite.
Then I got my shit and left. Fucking faggot. I walked in the direction of the caverns, toward the Neandertal.
from the short story project DYSAUTONOMIA. Comments and discussion welcome on blog entries. Follow me on twitter for updates to this serial story and future stories from this ongoing project