I stood there with my mouth open in shock as I tried to process the news. Here I was, newly divorced, falling for someone else, and now I'm pregnant. Not only does it suck to not be sure who the mother is, but I'm pretty sure a baby is going to wreak havoc on my perfect figure. Having Chester work out for me everyday for years will go to waste after 9 months (or 18 months if I have another set of twins). Speaking of twins, I hope my kids Isabeth and Juandrew are doing fine without me. Of course they're not, their mother is a bitch.

    "Chester, I need to speak with you immediately," I said, grabbing on to his arm.

    "You can tell me sir," He said, looking nervous.

    I looked around. The hallway was deserted-all the paramedics, cops, and bystanders had left and the gala had resumed as normal. Only Apple and Chester were the others in the hallway. And me. I was there too.

    I lean closer to them. "I'm pregnant," I whisper, not sure what to expect from them.

    I knew they'd be surprised, but I didn't think they'd be this surprised. Both Apple and Chester stared at me with wide eyes, like they were completely lost. They reminded me of myself when my son Juandrew asked me how many chocolates Katie had left if she started with 25 and ate 24. How the fuck was I supposed to know the answer to that? Katie has a problem, that's all I could tell him for sure.

    "Oh boy..." said Chester.

    "I'm not sure yet. I think it's too early to tell what gender it is," I respond.

    "Adam has really outdumbed himself this time," mutters Apple.

    "The correct word is 'outdone,'" I inform her. Man, Apple may be hot but sometimes she acts like she's a few French fries short of a happy meal. A few screws short of a hardware store. About as sharp as a bowling ball. Not the brightest light in the harbor. Her elevator doesn't go all the way to the top floor. The lights are on but the train's not coming. Fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down...

    My thoughts were interrupted by another surge of nausea. Chester supports me as I heave in guttural German, making me sort of pleased with myself since it's hard to get the accent right when I'm not tossing my cookies. This morning sickness is actually the perfect opportunity for me to practice puking in different languages, which is a subtle skill that takes many people decades to master.

    After I'm done, I straighten up and look handsome again. "Chester, and Apple, I'm going to need your support during my pregnancy."

    "I quit." Said Chester suddenly. Before I could even say anything, he turned around and stormed out of the hallway.

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