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Joe Poe had pretty much been dealt
a bum hand in the game of life. He was the bastard son of a Black Jewish hairlipped paraplegic circus midget.
Amazingly, though, Joe appeared pretty much normal--at least physically. The only noticeable characteristic he
inherited from his father was a very stupid-looking midget face, although Joe's head was basically normal sized.
Unfortunately this feature made Joe look, as full-grown men with midget-faces are wont to do, like a complete and
utter idiot. So it's like I said, Joe pretty much got the short end of the stick.
All this wouldn't have been quite so bad if Joe had possessed the necessary charms and intelligence to overcome
his obstacles. But he didn't. Joe Poe was as about as dumb as a Black man riding a woman's bicycle out to the Ku
Klux Klan rally with a shit-eating grin on his face and a rope in his hand. Joe hadn't done anything quite that
stupid yet, but it was only a matter of time. The only reason he had made it this far (to the ripe old age of 46)
is that he lived with his mom all his life, and she took real good care of him. The problem now was that she was
dying, and she desperately grasped for ideas of what to do with her imbecile son. Any idea. She even thought of
enlisting him for life in the Army, but decided against it when she realized that if she did that it would be just
her luck that there would be a war, and the dope would get himself killed, and then she'd have his death on her
wrinkled old conscience.
There would be none of that. She had to make sure Joe would be well cared-for. She thought of that one passionate
night of wild ecstasy she had shared with Joe's father and wondered if it was all worth it. Yes, she decided. Through
Joe, she was surviving death. Though not by much.
And then the idea dawned upon her, rising majestically over the distant mountainous horizon (or something like
that). She would get her boy a woman. If she found a good one and they made enough babies, most likely at least
one of them would have at least a scrap of intelligence in its head. Then her lineage would have a fighting chance.
She called to her son, "Joey, get in here."
Joe came a-bumblin’ into the bedroom.
"Yes, ma."
"Son, did I ever tell you about the birds and the bees?" she asked him.
"The birdies fly in the air and the mean old bees sting you in the butt," Joe replied, eager to demonstrate
his vast knowledge.
"No, you little shit, that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about sex! You know, with a girl..?"
Joe was dumbfounded.
"Sit down," the cancerous old woman told him. Joe sat on the bed beside his mother for what was to be
the last time while she was still alive.
For twelve hours she explained and explained again everything Joe would need to know were he going to make a baby.
When she had finished, she was utterly exhausted while Joe on the other hand was absolutely ecstatic.
"Tell me again, ma," he kept saying, "Tell me again."
"You little shit," she bitterly replied, "What was I thinking? You're never going to get laid…just
don't have your father's charm. There goes the progeny."
And then she died.
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