“What… did… you… just… say?”
“Qorviq, I said my 9 year old son… my cub… you are the biological father.”
“My cub, my child that I have had for 9 years, he belongs to you.”
“Who are we talking about?”
“My son. He is a seal-child and his name is Nanook.”
“Nanook, of whom you are the biological Father to. He is my 9 year old cub.”
Qorviq couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He felt the room getting suddenly so warm, and he could feel the walls closing in on him. He knew he was fainting.
Qorviq woke up what could have been hours, what could have been days (37 minutes) later in a hospital bed with Linda by his side.
“Thank God you are ok. When you went down your flipper hit the table and you got a nasty cut from your Miller Lite bottle crashing to the ground."
Miller Lite now offers that same Great Pilsner Taste in the safety of a 16 ounce aluminum canister.”
“You mean uh-loo-min-num?”
"No Qorviq, the proper pronunciation is al-you-min-knee-um."
"I think it's just pronouced that way in like Great Britian and stuff..."
"No, Qorviq, I am an English teacher, I would know. Now just lay down and rest."
As Linda and Qorviq sat in his hospital bed, staring deep into each others' eyes, he knew something wonderful lie just ahead…
OH MAN… THIS JUST KEEPS GETTIN’ BETTER!!!!!!!