"It’s trigger time," I announced to M yesterday after a call from The Stabber.
“Tigger?” asked M.
“Yes honey… Tigger! Won’t that be trouncy, flouncy, pouncy fun, fun, fun?” I replied, amazed at how much our headspace had changed since Devilboy entered our lives. I certainly wasn’t referring to one of Pooh’s friends… not unless they had started shooting up.
“Not ‘Tigger’… TRIGGER! At 10.30! Tonight”
Trigger has once more been lurking darkly in the fridge, all self important and smug, taunting me from its neat little packaging. But hidden behind the deceptively innocent and simple packaging is one big arsed bitch of a needle. This is the big one, the all important green light for the chickens to stop clucking about and start producing! And just like last time, it alone of all the needles scared the crap out of me.
But unlike last time, what with it being a regular week night and all, there wasn’t a freshly shaved truffle or indie Scottish movie about heroin addicts in sight. And though I’m a huge fan of Bill Maher, watching him interview Bill Moyers on television while Devilboy slept soundly in the next room…. seemed somewhat mundane compared to the action packed event that was trigger time last time around… in fact it seemed, well, really fucking dull!
The chickens needed more encouragement to start doing their funky egg laying moves… and this sorry scene simply wouldn’t cut it!
So lights were dimmed, tv turned off, candles lit and the stereo jacked up LOUD…
"Here comes Johnny Yen again
With the liquor and drugs
And the flesh machine
Your skin starts itching once you buy the gimmick
about something called love
Oh love, love, love
Well, that’s like hypnotizing chickens.
Well, I am just a modern guy
Of course, I’ve had it in the ear before
‘Cause of a lust for life
‘Cause of a lust for life"
Not being completely stupid, I do know the lyrics to Lust for Life are about Iggy Pop’s life as a hard-living heroin addict but in my twisted little mind, from the drugs to the itchesto the flesh machines, they could just as easily be about reproduction, Dr. Sickboy style.
And this particular song bloody well did work last time, didn’t it?! You won’t catch me messing with a winning formula. Anyway, the reference to chickens is a clear indication that this song is all about making much loved IVF babies… not just that Iggy was channelling obscure observations of love from William S. Burroughs while smacked off his tits.
So trigger has been injected, serenaded by Mr. Pop and all the little chickens are now a layin’.
Tomorrow morning we’re heading in for the retrieval. This is the process whereby Dr. Sickboy jams a foot long needle into my sore and bloated ovaries to suck the eggs out while Dildocam dives in to watch and laugh.
Now, won’t that be trouncy, flouncy, pouncy fun, fun, fun?”