BLESSED EVENT
By Charles F. Myers
He was the millionth quadrillionth baby to
be born on Earth. Naturally the event had to be
celebrated. And it was—in a devastating manner!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
February 1954
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Ginny stood anxiously in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on thehem of her apron.
"You shouldn't upset the boy by yelling at him, Lester," she said. "Iknow you're worried, but...."
"He upsets me, doesn't he?" Lester said defensively. He sat in thelounge chair by the window, and the light from the reading lamp,slanting across his face, sketched in the lines of consternationwith dark shadows. "Just look at that class paper!" he exploded."'Excellent,' it says. That's four 'excellents' already this month!"
"I know," Ginny said quietly. "I saw it when he brought it home thisafternoon." Her blue eyes misted. "He was awfully proud."
"The worst comment he's ever had was a 'very good,'" Lester saidheedlessly. "If only he'd get a 'poor' once in a while—or even a'rotten.' But that's too much to hope for."
"Maybe it's not really as bad as it seems," Ginny said hopefully. "Hesaid himself that he's weak in spelling."
"Not weak enough for comfort," Lester said. "That little head of his isjust crammed with brains. Sometimes I look at it and all I can thinkof is a stuffed bell pepper!" Suddenly his grey eyes came alight withinspiration. "Maybe if we cut down on his food—They say in those adsthat if a child is properly undernourished he begins to get sluggishand...."
"Lester!" Ginny said, thoroughly shocked. "Of all things!"
For a moment they were silent, not quite looking at each other.
"Where did he go?" Ginny asked finally.
"Into his room," Lester sighed. "To study, no doubt."
Ginny nodded and moved toward the entrance to the hall. "I'd better seeif he's all right," she said. "You really shouldn't have yelled at him."
Lester watched broodingly as she left the room. For a moment his gazeremained darkly fixed, then moved back and down to the toes of hisshoes. He sighed again, and the lines of worry, as though of sheerexhaustion, relaxed.
In repose, Lester's face, an average specimen in the galloping runof the world's faces, was not unpleasant. It was a face that had beencome by honestly, if not spectacularly, in the thirty-one years of itsexistence. In total, Lester was a tolerable young man, though one hadthe feeling that if he played tennis and wore tennis shorts—neither ofwhich he did—he would prove a bit knobby in the knee and bowed in theleg.
As for Ginny, she was the completely average companion piece toLester's average man. Her hair was honey-colored, her features wereregular and her figure, though a trifle fleshier than the dented-fendertypes photographed for the magazines, was highly desirable.Together, Lester and Ginny were, in all but one respect, very nearlyindistinguishable from the millions of other like couples whopredominately inhabit the nation. The single thing that set them apartfrom the mob was a marked tendency to shatter like a couple of droppedcrystal goblets at the sight of an 'excellent' on their male child'sclass papers.
This oddness, this single curious distinction, however, was noindication of mere capriciousness. The root of the trouble was firmlyset in reality, and if its subsequent fruit appeared somewhat ec