I've actually thought about this question a lot. I mean, me having kids is a scary-as-fuck prospect. First off, I never had the best examples of parents to learn off of. When a child starts to think of their mother and father less as parents and more as sentient beating machines fueled by alcohol, debt, and malice, he or she will probably have a skewed or misrepresented interpretation of what makes a family.
I imagine meeting my future wife already. It's the one time the sparse friends I have cope me out of my house to go to a party. I get drunk as my parents when they beat the shit out of each other, and don't remember a fucking thing the following morning when I wake up at home. I get out of bed and drag myself to a diner because I don't feel like making breakfast or getting dysentery from McDonalds. I feel like getting Dysentery from Denny's, so that's where I go. I walk in, hung over to Hell and back, and I sit myself down in a dingy, smelly booth. I feel like I'm going to vomit. But there's the cute Asian waitress coming to my booth, asking me what I want to have.
"Coffee," I say. "Immediately."
"Yessir!" Then she trots off and gets me a hottle of coffee. It's nice, because it makes me feel like I'm going to have a visitor to share it with. The waitress immediately notices my shirt.
"Ooh, I haven't played Golden Sun in a long time." Oh god, she's a gamer. Kick-ass. We make small talk as I get ready for my order. Despite the throbbing head, I couldn't be enjoying myself more. I thought to myself, "This seems like a girl I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life with." I would tip her and continue to show up to the Denny's, forgoing diarrhea every trip just to talk with her just to eventually work up the courage to ask her what she was doing Friday night. It was going to be magnificent.
Then a crazy bitch burst through the door and said that I knocked her up at the party last night and that she refuses to abort it. I CAN HEAR THE WEDDING BELLS ALREADY. Or that's the ringing in my ears from the hangover.
"What, I don't want to marry you. Abort it and go away, not my fault you let a drunk fuck you at the party."
"YOU RAPED ME!"
"...WHAT? No I didn't, don't fucking lie."
"YOU STABBED TWO PEOPLE AND SHIT ON THE COUNTER!"
"WHAT? I WOULD NEVER SHIT ON THE COUNTER!" The cute waitress was shying away from the explosive situation. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, MY ONE CHANCE AT TRUE LOVE IS DISAPPEARING. But as little choice as I had, this woman was going to be my wife. She wasn't ugly at least. Nice rack on her, but that might be what pregnancy does to a woman. We begrudgingly got married and moved into a dirty little apartment together. We hated each other at first. At first. But as it so turns out, we have the same general disgust with people as each other. She never wanted to leave the house, and the one night her friends dragged her out she was worried about getting date-raped or something.
...At the very least, I gave her something to hold over her friends for a long-ass time.
We named our first son Frank, after my grandfather that I never met and heard was an asshole. Frank seemed like an asshole's name. He was an asshole, too. As he grew older, he constantly mocked his father for dropping out of college and working at a paint-manufacturing plant while attempting to get his shitty pieces of writing published that nobody would ever want to read, the worthless little shit. You bet your ass that I drunkenly knocked him from room to room when I was bored. The snide bastard certainly had it coming. I came home one night upset and got into a fight with my wife again. She ended up raping me instead out of anger, and despite my feelings I certainly didn't have the pride to apologize to her for raping her because that was some scary shit. I wasn't going to apologize, she raped me. At least I wasn't aware of it. I immediately left home to go visit my friend to console me after what happened. She was a nice girl. We ended up sleeping together and having an affair for the entire week. When I got home Friday night, my wife told me she was pregnant with my rape child. I was horrified that she would birth a child born completely of malice, but she told me that unlike Frank it'll have a purpose to be alive other than simply being a tax write-off. I went and told my friend the horrible news, but then she told me that SHE was pregnant. ...Well, fuck.
She ended up giving birth a month later after my wife created that tool of vengeance, my daughter. My wife's daughter was Isabel. Don't know why, didn't care. That child did not exist to me. My friend's child was named Amelia after my first girlfriend. That initially didn't go over well, but we both figured it was a nice name and it might grace my second daughter with enormous breasts.
Eventually I get a divorce from my wife because she's pregnant again. She's pregnant after raping me again and having it backfire when I reverse-raped her. It was just a war of terrible, terrible rape that Frank and whatshername shouldn't bear witness to any longer. And I figured they got tired of me getting drunk and smacking the shit out of them. I get the divorce. I do this because then I end up having my friend and my other daughter move in. Life is strangely good. I begin to get a few pieces published, we have a stable marriage where I was drinking less and less. Then when she will take our daughter to daycare one day, they both will get into a car accident and die. This will hurt me beyond repair. And my ex-wife to make it worse will be glad. So one day I get drunk, I go to her house and meet her new boyfriend. I shoot him in the chest four times. I find my wife and kids and I drown them in the tub, then I shoot myself in the head. My brother posthumously gets this story and several others published after my death, and I become a national icon for breaking through in modern gothic fiction and memoir while he makes bank off of my talent.
The end.
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