User blog comment:Birchy/Auntie Birchy?/@comment-1597182-20120424021738

Hahaha "AMG THE BABY!" I am laughing so hard. I will now write a very dramatic short story about it, because that's how I roll.

Birchy typed rapidly at her computer, writing chapter nine of what she knew would be her best fan fiction the internet had ever seen-

The phone begins to ring, and Birchy jumps meters out of her seat, positive that this time is it. Her brother's girlfriend had gone into labor and in a matter of hours there would be a little girl in the family, a sweet, friendly baby who would absolutely adore her loving aunt.

Birch's hands shook dangerously as she picked up the phone, her voice quavering with nervousness. "H-Hello? Is it time?"

"Hello?" said a voice- the wrong voice. "Hi, sweetie, it's Aunt Sharon, can I talk to your mum?"

"She's out at the shop," Birchy says sadly, falling back into her prepartum depression. "I'll tell her you called." Birchy puts the phone down, utterly disappointed. I mean, hadn't this girl been pregnant for nine months? She's had the baby to herself for long enough! She needs to share!

Birchy went back to her writing, but had lost her train of thought. The baby had pushed away her ideas for the story. Frustrated, Birchy put slammed her laptop shut.

Across the room, Birchy's phone lit up and her favorite song started playing. Someone was calling! Birch scrambled out of her seat and ran at top speed towards her mobile. She looked at the contact number and saw that it was just a school friend. Screaming in rage, Birchy threw her phone with as much force as she could, shattering a window.

This was not at all the worst rage she had been in (the casualties of the worst tantrum had been several picture frames, the wallpaper of the kitchen and a pair of goldfish). It was like all of the pregnancy induced mood swings had been transferred to Birch from her brother's girlfriend.

After several more minutes of screaming, foot stomping and throwing of expensive electronic devices, the home phone began ringing again. Birchy ignored it, too angry to get her hopes up. She let it ring.

The answering machine kicked it. It was her very anxious sounding older brother. "Uh, hey guys. It's time! Meet us at the hospital. Wish us luck!"

Birchy, who had been screaming at some innocent lamps too loudly to hear the recording of the answering machine, had missed exactly what she had been waiting for.