This Modern Writer: The Backup Plan

At the rate I fail at relationships, I’m thinking I may not have children.  Yes, I am 31, which makes me technically young.  However, the older I get, the quality of my sperm degrades, unlike wine and cheese.  Also, I’m not sure I would be good to a 10-year-old child while walking with a cane or in a wheelchair when playing catch or other sports.  Then again, I would not be good for any of those things now, unless bowling is involved.

If all else fails, I’ve decided to leave an account open at a sperm bank of my choice.  When I die, it will be a requirement that my literary executor or the wife of my literary executor must have my child in order to retain control of my literary estate within two years upon the reading of the will.  After the child is had, the parent must then abide by the following instructions:

Age 6 – Parent must dress up like the Tooth Fairy, wear makeup that makes them look beaten, take photos, then show said child photos of beaten Tooth Fairy to explain why she can’t come to collect the child’s baby teeth.

Age 8 – When the child asks why we don’t celebrate Easter, explain firmly, but kindly, zombies do not know love, do not know forgiveness, despite what Christianity tells us.  Also, make sure to explain the Easter Bunny’s true mission is to ensure more children have type two Diabetes.

Age 10 – Leave the space beneath the Christmas tree barren.  Serve venison at dinner to explain why.

Age 12 – On the child’s birthday, make a necklace out of the collected baby teeth and give it to them.

Age 14 – On the child’s first date, show the embarrassing baby photos.  When the date makes up an emergency and leaves, explain to the child this is how you tell if he or she is that into you when they stay.

Age 16 – When the child asks why you won’t let them drive, explain that we don’t believe in choking the atmosphere with our mistakes.  Make sure this is said in a moving vehicle and the mileage is incredibly poor.

Age 18 – Tell the child its father is not really its father, hand them this letter

Dear You,

They say children are our future.  Because I will never know you, I had to make sure you were damaged just enough to make sure you would be alright in this world.  If I could, I would say this to you in a ghostly form but I can’t so I write this to you instead.  I hope you can forgive me for all the things I asked your mom to do.  I love you.  It’s ok if you don’t love me.

Sincerely,

J. Bradley
2027 Nobel Laureate