I was sitting in the car listening to the radio late at night and noticed the night deposit box at the artificial family clinic. A man of about age thirty, wearing a grey business suit and a yellow tie, went up to the slot, wrote on a piece of paper, and put his penis through. I don't imagine he'd have done it if he'd known I was watching.
The glow from the orange sodium lamps made the whole scene very eerie. He writhed with excitement for a short while, then stood back, shook his penis, and zipped his fly. He looked at his watch, picked up his briefcase, and walked briskly over to where he had double-parked his black 380-Z: still running.
"Boy, this is sure a sign of the times," I thought. "With the scare of AIDS and with life being so fast-paced and everything he probably just doesn't have the time. I'll bet he doesn't have the inclination. Where has the traditional relationship gone to? I'll bet he lives all alone in his condo with his VCR and a microwave."
But I followed him. After he'd gotten in his Z I started up the ol' Chevy and pulled out after him. I had to set down my "In'n'Out" Burger and it left this awful grease stain on my seat cover.
So he got to his condo (a condo after all) and he went to the door and I saw his wife (I'm guessing she was his wife) and she talked to him a minute before she let him in and sniffed suspiciously at his collar as he walked through the door.
That was when I realized that this guy was having an affair; the guy was having an affair with an instant deposit machine! It was the perfect affair: not only discreet and emotionally non-jeopardizing, but economically reimbursing as well; not to mention being a great service to all of those women whose husbands were sterile.
An interesting thought entered my mind...yet the more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed. After all...what was guaranteeing that this man was any less sterile than those other men whose wives were going through the torture of in-vitro fertilization and all of that? I mean if I were going through all of that stuff so that I could then spend another nine months going through all of that other stuff, I'd damn well want to know for sure whether or not that sperm was good shit or not. So I figured they probably had to show proof that they'd fathered some children before they got their donor card; that would make sense to me.
That got me going on a totally new thought track though-because I realized that that man might have children and I started thinking about genetics and all and above all about that theory about "menes": Mind genes that get passed down from generation to generation....
So out of curiosity I got another burger and coke at the "In'n'Out" and went back to the night deposit box. And, as I was watching another man cautiously approach the box, it dawned upon me that these men were probably character types and they would hand that character type down to their children-and not only did they have their own children, but they had "other people's children" as well, and those kids would get all of their traits too. Well, you can probably see where this all leads to as well as I can: we'll have a whole civilization of men who have a fascination with leaving their sperm in bottles. It could mean an end to the sexual relationship as we all know it! Couples might start having sex by mail!
I was a bit roused by this notion and I slapped the dash in disgust. I guess the guy at the deposit box heard me. He was just in the middle of the "writhing excitedly" part, and he jumped back, standing erect, with a look of one part fear and two parts embarrassment. He saw me in my Chevy, hurriedly dropped his deposit in the door, grabbed his magazine, and ran off around the corner.
About then it was time for Lucy to get off work and sure enough there she was and we drove to the back of the Chevron station and had sex in the car; the stain is still there on the front seat next to the "In'n'Out" burger. Then she tells me her old man knows she's seeing someone and he'll kill the guy (meaning me) if he ever finds him. Then she tells me she wants to leave him because he doesn't love her and never has good sex with her anymore and she wants to get together with me... and besides-he doesn't respect her wish to keep the child if indeed she is pregnant like she thinks she is. And she tells me he'll get over the whole thing eventually... of course, his friends hold grudges quite a bit longer than he does and, besides that, they all have CB radios in their cars and like to do a lot of useless "networking" and silly stuff like that.
"What in the fuck is networking?" I say.
"Networking... oh, that's a word from work.... They like to, you know, kind of go around and find things out about people and coordinate retributions. I wouldn't doubt it if they were out right now looking for us."
I was about to say "and... I want to know about this 'baby' thing," but this car drives by and I turn around and look at it through the foggy window and it drives on by. Lucy just keeps right on talking.
"What an asshole he is... you'd never do strange things like that, would you?"
I looked fearfully toward her longing eyes that were apt to sink me-thinking of how simple it would be to just see the blinking lights of the night deposit machine-and I said nothing.
Then the most bizarre thing happened.
* * *
You can probably guess what it was, but I'll tell you. When I stopped the car for Lucy to get out there was a man at the automatic deposit. Lucy asked me what he was doing there. Naturally, at first, she thought he was depositing a check.
"Wait till he starts to finish his transaction," I said snickering under my breath. She didn't know what I was talking about. I kept from laughing out loud.
"I think he's getting to the "writhing-excitedly" part... yes-there he goes!"
Lucy, by this time, had begun to figure out what was happening. She opened her mouth with a look of incredulity and we both started giggling while watching the man's back.
"I think he's getting ready to make his withdrawal now," Lucy said. I just about busted up laughing and was very soon completely hysterical. Lucy was laying down laughing on the front seat. The guy quickly pulled his pecker out and glanced very antagonistically back at me sitting in the car. Lucy was in tears from laughing. I stuck my head out of the car.
"Hey, buddy!" I yelled. "Don't ya know there's a penalty for early withdrawal!?"
Lucy really laughed when I said that. The guy must've heard her then cause he got real mad looking, zipped his pants, and started to walk over to my car. He was kinda big; had real mean biceps and all. That was when I got scared. I started the car up and backed out. Lucy then raised her head to see what the problem was. That was when she saw the guy running toward the car and immediately stopped laughing.
"Jim! Jim!" she said.
That was when I stopped laughing.
"That's your Jim?"
"Yeah..."
* * *
That was the last night I saw Lucy; I decided all we've got in common is really bad taste when it comes to the opposite sex. I'd like to be able to tell you that after all that my life is simple and I've got a shiny new night deposit card and am looking forward to donoring through the mail... but I don't and never will. I've given up "In'n'Out" burgers, lost 20 pounds, and haven't gotten a single scratch from the hands of emotionally overheated boyfriends. The way I see it, someone's got to keep the natural means of propagation operating... makes me feel kinda like the modern day John Henry, 'cept I ain't a big steel drivin' man, if ya know what I mean?
Karl Heiss is editor and publisher at Hippo magazine. He is living in Malibu, California at present, but would like to move elsewhere; somewhere where there are fewer people. As words of wisdom, Karl offers: "The root of all problems in this world is overpopulation; think about it."
For more stories by Karl Heiss, click here.
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