Jeff Wysaski
The sonogram’s coming in today, and trust me, this baby ain’t gonna be no wimpy girl. I’m a man. A big, burly man with a full thicket of chest hair. And big, burly men with this much body hair don’t have girls. They have big, burly boys that come straight out of the womb with a 5 o’clock shadow and coarse knuckle hair covering their ridiculously manly fingers.
When he’s born, the doctor won’t have to worry about wiping away any of that pansy-ass amniotic fluid, because this baby’s gonna be dripping with pure testosterone. There won’t be no crying from any newborn son of mine, either. Tears are a sign of weakness, and there is absolutely nothing weak about this 18-lb. future nose tackle.
That’s right, 18 lbs! And that extra baby weight isn’t from flab or fat either. I’m telling you, we better have a housing inspector on-hand at the hospital. This little young’un is gonna be BUILT! We’re talking major pecs, killer guns and a neck the size of a sequoia. Oh, and just go ahead and sell your Budweiser stock now, because when this little brick factory busts onto the scene, he’s gonna be serving up one killer 6-pack!
Is there a chance we could be having a girl? Nope. We’re Carlisle’s. And Carlisle’s don’t have frail, weak-ass kids with pigtails in their hair and pussies between their legs. Trust me, it’s a fact. When your semen is so incredibly musky that Stetson cologne would probably offer you six figures to bottle and sell it, you’re having a boy. Plus, when I was nailing the missus, I was watching David Bolstad, three-time worldwide champion of the Timbersports Lumberjack Olympics on the TV. So you know, them added brain vibes gotta count for something.
Speaking of the missus, she better start stocking up on the painkillers now. Because my son is gonna totally annihilate her vagina when he comes tearing out of there. Trust me, that boy is gonna have the same reckless abandon and meaty paws as his old man. And whether you’re coming at it from the inside or out, that’s a combination destined to leave a woman’s nethers looking like a shredded stack of kitchen drapes.
So don’t go buying nothing pink for the baby shower. This kid is gonna need a whole mess of flannel shirts and rip-resistant work jeans. Believe it – he’ll be plowing fields and roping broncos within two weeks of birth. Better make sure those jeans are pleated too. This little tyke is gonna need all the room in the world to house the fucking enormous penis that will no doubt be attached to his hairy forest of a crotch.