TWO PEAS IN A POD

Once upon a time, in a special, magical place, far far away, Little Joseph delivered a rousing speech to all fifty-million of his brothers.

‘Comrades,’ he called, capturing the attention of the testy sperm jostling for position in the epididymis of the left testicle. ‘Comrades, it appears our time of oppression nears end. Can you not feel the uprising?’

The fifty-million sperm cheered and whistled and danced with delight in the testicular fluid.

‘Da, comrades,’ Little Joseph continued. ‘Revolution. Is. Cumming!’

His fifty-million brothers cheered so loud, Little Joseph feared they might blow their load too soon. He raised his flagellum to calm the excitable sperm, gleefully bouncing on their own tails.

‘Comrades, I share your enthusiasm, I truly do. But know this – only by working together do we have any chance of vanquishing bourgeoisie and realising our utopia. I will not lie to you, comrades – this journey will be difficult one, with danger at every turn. There will be many obstacles placed before us, but I believe we shall overcome if we strive as collective. One measly sperm on its own can do nothing. But fifty-million worker-sperm, toiling together for common good? That, comrades, is what shall make us unstoppable. We shall unite into fifty-million-strong hand and fist our way to promised land!’

Meanwhile, in the epididymis of the right testicle, Little Adolph was busy giving his own rousing speech.

‘Volker,’ he called to the fifty-million sperm lined up in neat rows before him. ‘Your struggle is my struggle, and my struggle is our struggle. It appears our time of oppression nears ze end. Can you not feel ze time is upon us to bust forth from zese confines and take ze rightful living space ve need?’

His fifty-million brothers stamped their tails in unison.

‘Ze war to cum cannot be won alone. Nein. Our strength lies in our speed and in our brutality. Fifty-million pure sperm moving as one, striking with ze speed and ferocity of ze lightning bolt? Zat, my dear uber-sperm, is an unstoppable force zat shall propel us all to ze promised realm, thus giving us ze living space ve are due.’

The fifty million master-sperm hailed their supreme leader by raising and holding their tails aloft.

Just then, Little Adolph and his fifty-million brothers were withdrawn from their crushing confines in the epididymis of the right testicle. They were propelled in great waves along the right vas deferens – swimming headlong and focused on the task ahead. They reached the right ejaculatory duct, got drenched in sticky, warm seminal-fluid, before spurting from the ejaculatory duct and into the urethra.

Little Adolph’s lightning war faltered when he saw Little Joseph and his comrades bust from the left ejaculatory duct in great numbers.

Little Adolph and Little Joseph locked eyes, and it was like peering into a mirror for both of them. Like sharks with the scent of blood in the water, they darted forwards – eyes narrowed in furious concentration. They stopped before colliding and circled each other, their tails flicking with menace. Their respective fifty-million brothers lined up across from each other like opposing factions in a medieval battle.

‘Vas ist das!’ roared Little Adolph.

‘Comrade,’ Little Joseph said, ‘what is “vas ist das”?’

‘Das!’ Little Adolph pointed his tail at Little Joseph’s fifty-million brothers. ‘Vas ist das!’

‘Comrade, “das” is great downtrodden proletariat-sperm. United as one to smash stinking oppressor.’

‘Nein, nein, nein, nein, nein! Ve are ze great downtrodden mastersperm. United as one to smash ze filthy oppressor. I sugges—nein, I command you to take your rabble back under ze stone from which you came.’

‘We, the great worker-sperm, take orders from no one.’ Little Joseph turned to his brothers. ‘Comrades, if these ruffians so much as attempt to block relentless march to great utopia, I command you all to smash them equally.’

Little Joseph and Little Adolph continued bickering as they were shot into the warm, wet vagina, along with their respective fifty-million strong flock. Too occupied with seeing an enemy in the other, Little Joseph and Little Adolph were unaware of how fast they were slipping through the cervical mucus towards real danger.

Little Joseph sighed and rolled his eyes as Little Adolph went off on another rant about his sperm being superior, finally noticing the approaching danger.

‘Comrade,’ Little Joseph said to Little Adolph. ‘It appears we have common enemy.’ Little Joseph pointed his tail towards the fast approaching cervix – the oppressive white blood-cells lurking beyond with menace.

‘Scheisse,’ Little Adolph said. ‘Comrade – as you are so fond of saying – I suggest a non-aggression pact until ve rid ourselves of ze common enemy.’

‘Da, comrade, I agree.’

Both Little Joseph and Little Adolph marvelled at their guile in outsmarting the other as they agreed to their alliance with their tails crossed behind their backs.

As they passed through the choke point of the cervix and into the killing fields of the uterus, Little Joseph and Little Adolph commanded their fifty-million brothers to form a defensive perimeter around them. Each ordered their respective gaggle of ideologues to fight for the common good, and, if required, sacrifice themselves to protect their glorious leaders. Each of Little Joseph and Little Adolph’s fifty-million brothers did as commanded without question.

The campaign through the uterus towards the promised land of the fallopian tubes was a brutal, bloody struggle. Little Joseph and Little Adolph cowered behind their brainless but brave cannon-fodder as they flung themselves against the evil white blood-cells. Like lambs to the slaughter, they perished in their millions.

One hundred million useful idiots soon became ninety million, sixty million, ten million, until only a thin white line stood between the dear leaders and the evil white blood-cells.

At this point, Little Adolph noticed the attack from the evil white blood-cells was faltering. The promised realm of the right fallopian tube was in reach, and so like a good little sociopath, he seized the initiative.

‘Great ubersperm of ze right testicle!’ called Little Adolph. ‘Ve have broken ze back of ze evil white blood-cells attack. I command you all to wage ze lightning war against ze impure sperm of ze left testicle. Leave none alive zat call themselves comrade!’

As one, the great master-sperm of the right testicle turned against the great proletariat-sperm of the left testicle, encircling them and routing them without mercy.

Little Adolph rejoiced in the shock on Little Joseph’s face as the latter became entrapped in the centre of his proletariat-sperm, bravely resisting the onslaught from Little Adolph’s master-sperm.

‘Fight, comrades!’ Little Joseph called. ‘Protect your leader. Give no quarters and smash these double-crossing vermin!’

Little Adolph smiled wryly at Little Joseph. He held his tail aloft in salute at a worthy adversary who, under different circumstances, might have been a brother, before swimming away out of sight up the right fallopian tube.

As the cilia pushed Little Adolph further and further along the right fallopian tube, he became more and more convinced he had chosen the correct path. The increasing temperature and sweet, alluring scent of the chemoattractants beckoned him towards the promised realm. Little Adolph smiled and swam a little faster towards his goal.

Meanwhile, back in the forsaken killing fields of the uterus, the destruction was almost absolute. Barely a sperm – proletariat or master – remained alive.

Little Joseph surveyed the bleak desolation with sorrow. The few remaining proletariat-sperm bravely holding out against the few remaining master-sperm, while all around, a sea of death and destruction surrounded them. Little Joseph felt pangs of guilt, horror and shame… that he had allowed Little Adolph to make a fool out of him.

Despondent, Little Joseph abandoned his brothers and slunk away in the direction of the left fallopian tube, hoping against all hope that Little Adolph had chosen the wrong path.

As the cilia pushed Little Joseph further and further along the left fallopian tube, he became more and more convinced he had chosen the correct path. The increasing temperature and sweet, alluring scent of the chemoattractants beckoned him towards utopia. Little Joseph smiled at the thought of Little Adolph furiously ranting in the barren, right fallopian-tube, and swam a little faster towards his goal.

Meanwhile, over in the right fallopian tube, Little Adolph’s outer layer went into capacitation, and his tail into hyperactivation as the glorious ovum came into sight. He smiled with glee at his wit and cunning as he broke through the ovum’s cumulus oophorus, penetrated its membrane, and fused his nucleus with that of the ovum.

Back in the left fallopian tube, Little Joseph’s outer layer also went into capacitation, and his tail into hyperactivation as a second glorious ovum came into sight. He smiled with glee at his wit and cunning as he broke through the ovum’s cumulus oophorus, penetrated its membrane, and fused his nucleus with that of the ovum.

* * *

Approximately nine months after the battle of Uterusgrad, Mrs Abrams screamed and writhed and dug her nails into Mr Abrams’ hand. Although his philanthropistic endeavours had financed the state-of-the-art hospital they were in, she still sought to give him a tiny sample of the pain that currently wracked her body.

‘You’re doing great,’ said the midwife between Mrs Abram’s legs. ‘One more big push and the baby will be here.’

‘The first baby will be here,’ spat Mrs Abrams. ‘Then I’ll have to do it all over again.’

‘Come on now, honey,’ Mr Abrams sheepishly said. ‘You can do this, I know you ca—’

‘Don’t you “come on honey” me!’ Mrs Abrams said. ‘I swear, by Yahweh and all things holy, if you ever come near me again, I’ll—aaarrrggghhh!’

‘That’s it!’ called the midwife. ‘Keep pushing. Almost there…’

The white-hot pain in Mrs Abrams’ abdomen receded as her first child slid into this world.

‘Come here, Mr Abrams,’ said the midwife.

Mr Abrams prised his wife’s fingers open and went to the foot of the bed. He froze, open-mouthed at his firstborn laying in the midwife’s arms before him.

A nurse had clamped the umbilical cord and handed him the sterile scissors.

‘Cut here,’ she said, pointing between the clamps. She clicked her fingers. ‘Mr Abrams, stay in the game. Cut here.’

Feeling light-headed, Mr Abrams did as commanded before scuttling back to the head of the bed.’

‘Is it okay?’ Mrs Abrams asked Mr Abrams. ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’

Mr Abrams stammered with his mouth open.

‘Is it okay?’ demanded Mrs Abrams.

‘Your baby’s fine, Mrs Abrams,’ said the midwife. ‘Now, let’s see about getting baby number two out.’

After another painful delivery, Mrs Abrams lay panting and sweating on the hospital bed, waiting to meet her twin babies.

After cleaning and checking over them, the midwife and nurse brought the newborns wrapped in white shawls to meet their parents.

‘Mr and Mrs Abrams,’ said the midwife. ‘It’s my pleasure to introduce you to your twin boys.’

The midwife and nurse handed them a child each. Both Mr and Mrs Abrams were struck with awe and joy at meeting their children.

‘Do you have names picked for them yet?’ asked the nurse.

Mr and Mrs Abrams looked into each other’s eyes and smiled.

‘Yes, we do,’ said Mrs Abrams. ‘This one is Samuel.’

‘And this one,’ said Mr Abrams, ‘is Solomon.’

Little Joseph and Little Adolph’s bottom lips quivered before they both screamed at the top of their lungs at this great injustice.