[43] Mel’s View, David Sydney

This was it—Mel’s birthday, his entrance into this world and exit from another. He was now midway in the birth canal.

Behind was the pleasant past. Before him was Dr. Franzblau and other members of the obstetrical team. He sensed a world of bright lights and gloved hands. Mel was about to be smacked on his rear. And why not? One look at Mel’s ass, and the obstetrician could not help himself.

Was it any wonder that he tried to backpedal as fast as possible? He didn’t like the look of the doctor’s fingers—those gloves.

What kind of birthday was this? What kind of life? Soon, he would be among too many other constantly crying babies.

Dr. Franzblau reached forward. Who needed a greeting like that? For nine months, it had been so comfortable. Mel literally had everything he wanted. Now, it was the obstetrician, the obstetrical team, the nursery, the exit from the hospital, and the whole downhill course of 73 years. Maybe 75, if he managed to exercise more.

The first thing newborns do when coming into this world is cry. And why not? Could anyone criticize Mel? He had a perfect, unobstructed view of the world. That is, until Sam Franzblau grabbed him.