Edmund almost killed it. It was sitting on his front stoop and he, with his three hundred pounds, would’ve killed it if it hadn’t wriggled. Instead, he screamed.
His roommate Jonathan was on the scene first. He nudged the burlap with his frightened toe and it cried. He knew that sound and so did Edmund. They each bent down and pulled the mouth of the sack open. A newborn boy. A note:
To whom it may concern, I was in a potato sack race and this fell out of my vagina. In the five minutes I had with him I named him Spud. Please don’t cook him or mash him up, just find him a nice home.
Jonathan was the first to laugh, this was his kind of girl, maybe he could treat the baby as some kind of glass slipper. Then Edmund starting laughing so hard he lost about fifty pounds. He held up the burlap sack and it had an image of a stork playing a saxophone:
Jazzy Spuds: Like Music In Your Mouth!
Warming the baby between his man-boobs, Edmund dialed out for pizza and a liter of Coke, the baby had to eat something.