The Goat's Take
This Week's Topic:
CHILDBIRTH CLASS
The miracle of birth...who thought something so simple as banging some whores behind the dumpster at an abandoned IHOP could bring about a little creature that poops and cries a lot? I guess people think it isn't just as simple as that, because the Goat and the Goatress have been attending, and finally graduated from childbirth classes. At these classes, they tell you all the nitty-gritty details about squeezing out a seven-some-odd pound bundle of joy from your no-no zone.
And what are all those nitty-gritty details? I think they talked about it a lot during the first class, but I couldn't tell you, because I was too busy not paying attention while my mind occupied itself with thinking about the new cartoon about a totally sweet metal band. Seriously, death metal in the form of a cartoon is probably the best thing ever to happen in this world. So, the Goat was forced to draw some conclusions about this whole miracle of life thing in the split second between me realizing that I wasn't paying attention for the past forty minutes and also realizing that the instructor lady was about to call on some people to answer some questions. This is what the Goat came up with:
The conception had to have been from an immaculate source or a dirty truck-stop toilet seat, because I'm pretty sure the Goat is still a virgin. Either way, a little baby Goat demon girl started to incubate within the Goatress' tummy tum. Ever since the Goatress has had this baby inside of her, she has either felt ill, cranky, or uncomfortable. The Goat has a theory about that, so strap on your safety glasses as I punch your face with knowledge. Now, the baby needs a way to get out, so that's why Darwin developed a cyborg beak and encoded it secretly in everyone's sperm while we slept the night away some time ago. The beaks prime function is to let the baby peck its way though the tough lining in the walls of the uterus (this is, of course, after it is done sucking all nutrients from the mother). To weaken the host body (ie the Goatress), the beak is equipped with specialized sacs that inject a nasty venom into the bloodstream. This totally explains morning sickness. Not only is that baby pecking the hell out of your insides, but it is also pumping you chuck-full of toxins to make its work much easier. Those aren't kicks; they're the steady rhythm of a beak pecking its way to freedom, just like a convict with a venomous spoon. Unfortunately for mom, this whole process takes nine months, because babies have weak and underdeveloped baby muscles.
Labor is a myth. Once that baby breaks through, Alien style, the doctors drug the fuck out of you and make up some story about pushing and passing babies through vaginas. All lies. They just don't want widespread panic as stories of belly busing alien children with beaks run amok through your neighborhood. Instead, they tell you to rush to the hospital once the pecking (excuse me...contractions) become unbearable. It is there they pump you full of dope and make up an alternate ending to your birth experience. Those bastards totally wipe your memory, Men-in-Black style, and while they are at it, they wipe the "birthing partner's" memory, too. Since doctors are experts at doctor shit, they stitch up the belly so you don't scar. That is, unless severe complications arise and the scarring cannot possibly be covered up. In that case, they tell you that a caesarian was necessary.
It is unfortunate that every single doctor in the world has a fisting fetish, hence the arising of the "babies coming out of the vagina" fable. That's why it is always so rubbery and sore down there after "childbirth". Had a baby through your vagina, huh? Nope, you just had the fisting of a lifetime. They probably even took turns; but go ahead and believe your little fable. Once the doctors get bored and decide to catch the baby (and you damn well know it scurries all over the place before they can snag it up with a butterfly net), they break off the beak, cut the penis shorter, and do all that other necessary doctor shit before they hand you your blood-soaked bundle of joy. Congrats mom, you have a new IHOP baby.
However, if I were to humor these medical types and say that the vagina method were true as opposed to the beak method, there are several aspects of the birth process that I wish to touch on...
After the baby emerges, there is such thing as afterbirth. The placenta peels from the uterus and is shed from the body after a little while. I'm sure the Goatress won't want a putrid placenta hanging out inside of her, so I plan on getting it out as soon as possible. The Goat will strut up to those stirrups, put my heel firmly in her butthole, and yank that placenta right out by the umbilical cord. I'll swing it overhead a few times for dramatic effect before launching that shit right out the window. There would be no more placenta in the Goatress, and the hospital lawn would have just received some fresh fertilizer; everyone wins.
There is a slight chance that the Goatress will be the lucky recipient of an episiotomy. And for those who don't know, an episiotomy is where the doctor hacks the hell out of the taint with a machete in order to make way for the baby's gigantic head. The pictures they showed of this shit were downright some of the scariest things the Goat has ever seen. The doctor was elbow deep in this chick's George W. cutting his way through that taint like some deranged roast beef barber. If some crazy ass Leatherface freak wants to hack up my Goatress, they're going to have to get through the Goat's taint first. It's like a goddamned turtle shell down there, believe me.
But anywho, childbirth classes are pretty sweet. If you get a ton of pregnant bitches in the same room, you are bound to hear some ground-shaking flatulence. I'm talking about some of the biggest cheek slappers you ever did hear. Those preggos can't help it, especially when everyone is all on the floor doing relaxing breathing exercises while the lights are dimmed. This one chick started laughing, and let one slip. I was pretty convinced that a motorboat had arrived just in time to view some episiotomy pictures.
--This is the word of the Goat
CHILDBIRTH CLASS
The miracle of birth...who thought something so simple as banging some whores behind the dumpster at an abandoned IHOP could bring about a little creature that poops and cries a lot? I guess people think it isn't just as simple as that, because the Goat and the Goatress have been attending, and finally graduated from childbirth classes. At these classes, they tell you all the nitty-gritty details about squeezing out a seven-some-odd pound bundle of joy from your no-no zone.
And what are all those nitty-gritty details? I think they talked about it a lot during the first class, but I couldn't tell you, because I was too busy not paying attention while my mind occupied itself with thinking about the new cartoon about a totally sweet metal band. Seriously, death metal in the form of a cartoon is probably the best thing ever to happen in this world. So, the Goat was forced to draw some conclusions about this whole miracle of life thing in the split second between me realizing that I wasn't paying attention for the past forty minutes and also realizing that the instructor lady was about to call on some people to answer some questions. This is what the Goat came up with:
The conception had to have been from an immaculate source or a dirty truck-stop toilet seat, because I'm pretty sure the Goat is still a virgin. Either way, a little baby Goat demon girl started to incubate within the Goatress' tummy tum. Ever since the Goatress has had this baby inside of her, she has either felt ill, cranky, or uncomfortable. The Goat has a theory about that, so strap on your safety glasses as I punch your face with knowledge. Now, the baby needs a way to get out, so that's why Darwin developed a cyborg beak and encoded it secretly in everyone's sperm while we slept the night away some time ago. The beaks prime function is to let the baby peck its way though the tough lining in the walls of the uterus (this is, of course, after it is done sucking all nutrients from the mother). To weaken the host body (ie the Goatress), the beak is equipped with specialized sacs that inject a nasty venom into the bloodstream. This totally explains morning sickness. Not only is that baby pecking the hell out of your insides, but it is also pumping you chuck-full of toxins to make its work much easier. Those aren't kicks; they're the steady rhythm of a beak pecking its way to freedom, just like a convict with a venomous spoon. Unfortunately for mom, this whole process takes nine months, because babies have weak and underdeveloped baby muscles.
Labor is a myth. Once that baby breaks through, Alien style, the doctors drug the fuck out of you and make up some story about pushing and passing babies through vaginas. All lies. They just don't want widespread panic as stories of belly busing alien children with beaks run amok through your neighborhood. Instead, they tell you to rush to the hospital once the pecking (excuse me...contractions) become unbearable. It is there they pump you full of dope and make up an alternate ending to your birth experience. Those bastards totally wipe your memory, Men-in-Black style, and while they are at it, they wipe the "birthing partner's" memory, too. Since doctors are experts at doctor shit, they stitch up the belly so you don't scar. That is, unless severe complications arise and the scarring cannot possibly be covered up. In that case, they tell you that a caesarian was necessary.
It is unfortunate that every single doctor in the world has a fisting fetish, hence the arising of the "babies coming out of the vagina" fable. That's why it is always so rubbery and sore down there after "childbirth". Had a baby through your vagina, huh? Nope, you just had the fisting of a lifetime. They probably even took turns; but go ahead and believe your little fable. Once the doctors get bored and decide to catch the baby (and you damn well know it scurries all over the place before they can snag it up with a butterfly net), they break off the beak, cut the penis shorter, and do all that other necessary doctor shit before they hand you your blood-soaked bundle of joy. Congrats mom, you have a new IHOP baby.
However, if I were to humor these medical types and say that the vagina method were true as opposed to the beak method, there are several aspects of the birth process that I wish to touch on...
After the baby emerges, there is such thing as afterbirth. The placenta peels from the uterus and is shed from the body after a little while. I'm sure the Goatress won't want a putrid placenta hanging out inside of her, so I plan on getting it out as soon as possible. The Goat will strut up to those stirrups, put my heel firmly in her butthole, and yank that placenta right out by the umbilical cord. I'll swing it overhead a few times for dramatic effect before launching that shit right out the window. There would be no more placenta in the Goatress, and the hospital lawn would have just received some fresh fertilizer; everyone wins.
There is a slight chance that the Goatress will be the lucky recipient of an episiotomy. And for those who don't know, an episiotomy is where the doctor hacks the hell out of the taint with a machete in order to make way for the baby's gigantic head. The pictures they showed of this shit were downright some of the scariest things the Goat has ever seen. The doctor was elbow deep in this chick's George W. cutting his way through that taint like some deranged roast beef barber. If some crazy ass Leatherface freak wants to hack up my Goatress, they're going to have to get through the Goat's taint first. It's like a goddamned turtle shell down there, believe me.
But anywho, childbirth classes are pretty sweet. If you get a ton of pregnant bitches in the same room, you are bound to hear some ground-shaking flatulence. I'm talking about some of the biggest cheek slappers you ever did hear. Those preggos can't help it, especially when everyone is all on the floor doing relaxing breathing exercises while the lights are dimmed. This one chick started laughing, and let one slip. I was pretty convinced that a motorboat had arrived just in time to view some episiotomy pictures.
--This is the word of the Goat