James Olwegenae paced the waiting room. My FUCKING sister, he thought angrily. Why the FUCK couldn't she get married and settle down and have some OTHER bastard have to go through this shit of waiting for her bastard child to get itself born. And why the HELL am I here? God knows I don't owe the slut nothin', especially after her FUCKING retard mutt trashed my place. Why the FUCK couldn't she get herself fucked by the wrong person an' die, or get the shit beat outta her, like happens to half the ho's out there? SHIT. God knows I got other things to do more important than waiting for my sister's baby to get born, so she can get it into the foster care system.
James' train of thought was interrupted by a scruffy-looking, bearded, white man in a light blue suit and a green and purple striped tie who shambled into the empty waiting room, took out a newspaper and sat down. James offered a polite "Hello," that was gruffly returned. James resumed his pacing and his thoughts.
The command came from nowhere. "Sit down." James stopped and looked around, but there was no one there but the bearded man and himself. He continued his pacing, thinking he had been mistaken.
"Sit down." This time, there was no mistaking the note of command in the voice. James stopped in his tracks. Then he sat.
The bearded man hrumphed and continued his reading.
At that moment, an orderly came out of the waiting room and stammered, "Mr. Ole-wedge-, I mean, Mr. Old-wejen-, no, sorry, Mr. -"
"Olwegenae," James supplied.
"Right. Mr. Ole-wej-in-eye, your nephew has been born. Would you like to come . . . in . . . and . . . see?" The orderly stopped and watched as James hefted his 6'6" frame out of the tiny waiting room chair.
"No thanks." James left the room.
