An interview with my wife FF. Tonight, FF sits at the fir farm table her other spouse (I'll call him Mike) made for her last Christmas. She wears a black sweater and magenta scarf over a skinny army pant. Her eyes are slightly puffy around the edges from lack of sleep. She sips on a small glass of red wine while tapping thoughts into her personal computer.  FF- How are you feeling today?

FF- Well. it's chilly outside. And my poor nipples have been sucked voraciously, so each time I step into the frigid outdoors they swell and throb with incredible pain. 

FF- That sounds icky. 

FF- Yes, but I'm getting used to it. The pain. It's mostly fine - and nothing, absolutely nothing compares to the horrific pain of childbirth. Plus, I'm feeding this little being and watching her mature before my eyes. It's pretty amazing how a pair of boobs can grow a human. 

FF- A pair of boobs containing the most nutritious liquid ever. 

FF- True. There is a point to all this booby madness. Miss Beckett now weighs eight and a half pounds. She's been sucking me dry. She loves the teats. Teats, teats, teats!

FF- And what are you feeding yourself?

FF- Tonight I'm having tater tots, spinach and a chicken hotdog for dinner. I have to eat blander foods - sans garlic and spicy spice - to avoid giving her painful fart syndrome. 

FF- Didn't a group of soldiers in New Delhi die from such a thing?

FF- I believe that version of painful fart syndrome involved a black snake, a dirty saddle, and a boxing match between two lightweights gone wrong. 

FF- Oh yes! It was called Tangekalolly Pood Syndrome and many villagers died as well. 

FF- It was a travesty. 

FF- Indeed. An odorous one. 

FF- Something I'd rather not experience at all. 

FF- I imagine there are few who would.

FF- Sadists and 4th grade elementary school teachers. 

FF- Tilt-a-whirl conductors and Chinese barbed wire manufacturers.

FF- those too.