MicroHorror

One thousand, that was an unlucky number for me. I had a long and prosperous career as an IVF specialist, with a 100% success rate. Well, of course it would be entirely successful if they were your own children you were growing, harvesting, in a female host. I know, they were my patients and I had a duty of care to provide the best quality service I could, and in a way, I did. I mean, look at the quality of the sperm they received. I am good looking, smart and successful, what more could a mother want in a child? If the partners of these poor women were not capable of delivering the goods by themselves, then they did not deserve to be a father.

I have an address book with all of my children’s details in it: name, date of birth, sex, address and any other detail that the happy parents willingly gave me. Most of my children have received a letter from me now, some have written back and a few have even come to visit me. Boy, they are good-looking kids. My youngest is a two-month-old girl and the oldest is a twenty-one year old boy. I would have liked to attend his twenty-first birthday party, but that was last week and there was no way I could have made it, unfortunately.

I do not feel any resentment to the nurse who found me tossing off into the specimen jar. Luckily, I was able to complete the procedure and reach the thousand mark before she was able to report it and the police arrested me.

Anyway, I will be out in time to see my children and grandchildren grow up.