text: The Stork We’d been trying for a baby for years before the stork came. Hundreds of letters sent to Stork Deliveries Inc., all ignored(or so we thought). I’d always be disappointed when months passed without any response, and my husband would try to cheer me up. We had already given up on the idea of raising our own children and accepted our fate as a barren couple years ago when a mysterious letter flew under our front door. Well, it wasn’t really a mysterious letter; the logo of Stork Deliveries Inc. was printed very obviously on the envelope. I was giddy with excitement when I rushed into the kitchen where my husband was eating his lunch. “Tom!” I cried. “The Storks send us a letter!” “A letter? Who uses those nowadays?” Tom replied with a twinkle in his eye as he took the letter from me and stared at its face. He reached to rip it open but paused. “Sarah,” he said slowly, “a letter from the Storks can only mean one thing. As soon as we take this letter out, a stork will come and hide a child in our house and if we don’t find it within a day, the stork has to live with us until the baby is 18.” “Well,” I said nervously, “we don’t have a large house; there aren’t many places you can hide a baby, and a day is plenty of time. Plus, even if the stork lives with us, it’ll be fine. The Patterson’s across the road failed finding their child and now they have a stork who helps with chores around the house.” Tom nodded, took a deep breath and ripped open the letter. “Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Campbell. Stork Deliveries Inc. are delighted to inform you that you have been deemed eligible to receive a son. A stork has arrived with your future child and is currently in the process of hiding it in your house. If you don’t find the child within 1 hour, the stork will live in your house until the baby is of age or it sees fit. Your timer starts now. STORK DISPATCHED NAME: Ben SEX: Male AGE: 58 ADDITIONAL NOTES: LMAOOOO good luck” “One hour?!” I exclaimed. “It’s changed!” Tom scanned the letter again. “I don’t think-“ He stopped speaking, staring at something past me. I turned and screamed. A stork with yellowed feathers and a stoned expression was staring at us from the entrance of the kitchen. It had a red bandanna tied to its balding head, a faded blue backpack and an orange tag with the number 208794 written on it was attached to its leg. “Is that a stork?” Tom gawked. “Yes, I’m a stork,” the stork replied. “It talks!” I jumped back. The stork shot me what looked like an annoyed expression. “Yes I talk, Sherlock, and I have a name. It’s Ben. Now I’d recommend getting a move on with this child-finding business before your timer runs out.” It pointed at a clock on the wall--which was definitely not there before--and winked. *Right,* I thought. *There’s a child to be found. A child! I’m going to be a mother!* I closed Tom’s open mouth. “Well, you heard it-- uh, him. We have to find the child!” For the next hour my husband and I turned the house upside down looking for the child to no avail. The clock started screeching and my husband and I had to run back home from the roof to turn it off. “Ha, y’all didn’t find him!” Ben taunted as we defeatedly walked through the front door. “Yes, we get it. Where’s the child?” I asked. Turns out the baby was in Ben’s backpack. Tom and I tried protesting that it wasn’t fair but Ben just threatened to fly away and take the child back to where it came from. We reluctantly agreed to let Ben stay for 18 years(“But drinking age is 21!” Ben protested. However, we were in Australia so take that, motherf-), but all complaints were forgotten as soon as we gazed upon the child’s face. And at that moment, I knew I would never, ever, ever give that baby up. Or let it down. We named our child Dave, and over the next 18 years he grew into a strapping young lad. He was a perfect son, and we were so proud of him at his graduation. However, those 18 years were the worst years of our lives. Because of Ben. Of course, after we received Dave, Ben moved into the master bedroom(Tom and I’s)and complained about how small and cramped it was. He constantly whined about how his old family had lived in a huge mansion and fed him the best fish that money could buy. We were too joyful over our son to give Ben much of a crap. The problem started when he stumbled across the cellar. We came home one evening after taking Dave out to the park to a very drunk Ben, slouching on our couch smoking and watching television while eating microwaved pizza with empty bottles of wine on the floor. I believe that the sight traumatised Dave and made him hate the taste of pizza, though he doesn’t seem to remember the incident. I put Dave to bed while Tom scolded Ben and cleaned him up. I hoped that this would be a one off incident, but whenever we were away I would always find evidence that someone had stolen more alcohol from our cellar and a smell of smoke that I could never scrub out afterward. 18 gruelling years of living with a literal animal took tolls on Tom and I’s health. By the time Dave graduated we were only 48 years old but had white hair and wrinkles(and probably lung cancer too). The day after Dave’s birthday, the master bedroom was empty, the cellar was missing 5 bottles of whiskey and Ben was nowhere to be found. Years later we received an invitation to Ben’s funeral. “Ben will always be remembered for the many good things he had done for the company,” the CEO of Stork Delivers Inc. said during his speech. “He had fun at parties, drinking with everyone. He took his colleagues to the bar, as long as the other stork was paying. He...thank you for listening.” Tom and I laughed for a full five minutes once we got home. It would seem that not even his boss thought much of him.