Galactic Abortions?

artist conceptual drawing of the Bussard Instellar Ramjet Engine
PIcture of Bussard Ramjet Engine from Wikipedia

As I was re-entering Earth’s atmosphere last night about midnight after a quick trip to the far-side of  the moon,  I had one of those flash-backs from my childhood better left un-flashed. Sometimes, things can be painful.

You see, my poor mother was a woman beset with a multitude of ills and pains in the posterior, most of which were children. I was the last issue of a prolific set of parents, and therein lies the tale.

Adjusting my anti-gravity drives as I set my craft down in my driveway, I remembered that little comment my mom made to me when I was about ten years old.

“I thought you were a tumor”, she said.

Back then, I had no idea what she was talking about, and went about my business of killing ants, or whatever ten-year old boys did. I was really good at getting them with a magnifying glass in the midday sun. I never could get the family cat to stay still long enough to see what I could do to that species.

It was not until years later, many years, that I recalled that comment, and started to wonder exactly what my mom meant. Originally, I did not know what a tumor was. In those days there was no such thing as a legal abortion, either. So, it took a while to put the pieces of the puzzle together about my mom’s meaning.

The poor woman had so  many kids, and her age was such that she thought her childbearing years were over. When that new lump appeared (me), she really thought, or hoped, that it was a tumor and not another baby. God knows, she had enough little monsters running around the house. I know, because I had to fend for myself against all those hungry siblings.

While stowing the stubby atmosphere wings on my T-91 stellcraft, I was grateful that abortions were not legal when I was born. Otherwise, you never know what would have happened. What my mother really meant was that she was afraid she had a tumor, and was really glad to learn she was pregnant. I think.

As my individual interstellar craft finished morphing back into looking like a 1991 Ford Taurus, I was at peace with myself and my mother. There is no way she would have aborted me. I am too important, and she could foresee that. Instead of becoming a doctor, as she fervently wished, I became something even more impressive and important.

I am the representative for Planet Earth to the Galactic Federation, as my nightly flights to the stars would seem to indicate. The fate of Planet Earth rests in my hands.

You should be very thankful that I was not aborted.

4 thoughts on “Galactic Abortions?”

  1. I, too, am very thankful that Mama Sadie kept you around. My world is a better, more safe place with you here.

  2. Thank you, Dear Niece. I will try my best to keep the Gorgons from their planned invasion so you and your family can sleep at nights.

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