The musings of a frozen embryo in Alabama

Be chill my (non-existent) beating heart

Oh hi there! I’m Blastocyst 4AA, but you can just call me B.

Frost and foremost, I should start by asking you to excuse my icy nature. The truth is I’d greet you all warmly, but then I’d cease to exist and the state of Alabama could charge all of you with manslaughter, or murder or… icecapades or some other random non-fucking-crime they’ve made up entirely for which the wrath of god shall be visited upon you as well as indefinite federal penitentiary incarceration.

And look, let’s be honest here, I don’t know what an Alabama is, but it sounds like something that would hurt and I don’t know what hurt means, but it probably ain’t fun, and I don’t know what fun is… you’re right — let’s move on.

I’m guessing this whole thing is probably a tad bit awkward, given the fact that I don’t yet have a brain and statistically speaking I never will, and therefore it doesn’t make a damn bit of fucking sense that I’m able to say any of this, but look, that Alabama thing has decided that I’m the same as your 10 year old kid, so just work with me here ok.

I think I’ll start with a joke in the interest of… well… breaking the ice (good one huh?)

So here goes: (and by the way, they tell me the egg that I come from is from the “Bronx” which sounds like some kind of animal or transmissible disease to me, but for the purposes of this essay, that little fact will explain why I have a NY accent and came to be in a thing called Alabama).

Two muffins are sitting in the oven...