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I sit at a table at a classy restaurant eating a plate of spaghetti. Instead of meatballs, the spaghetti has a bunch of microchips all mixed in with it.
Across from me sits a red-haired woman. She's actully quite attractive. She's singing to herself, a Van Morrison song.
One by one, she pulls long pins out of her hair, and sticks them in her eyeballs.
Death babies send crying sounds on TV over satellite. Babies communicate by crying. A wet diaper in every mailbox in Canada. Babies everywhere Fed-Exing dirty diapers to all citizens. The baby war has begun.
Morale is low as many find it difficult to inflict violence upon an infant.
Pitchforks selling out at hardware supply stores. The baby war has many casualties. Where do they come from? Where the fuck are all these babies coming from?
Pregnant women. The womb of the earth in an Arctic laboratory deep underneath the tundra. Baffin Island, maybe Ellesmere.
Babies are born in the cold from stolen sperm of Nazi war criminals.