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BABIES COME FROM

F***ING, CHARLIE written by sharon miki & illustrated by cody klyne


This book is dedicated to people who ask hard questions.

www.sharonmiki.com www.codyklyne.com


Babies Come From F***ing, Charlie


O

nce upon a screen—another day had dawned, and sparkled, and passed—so Charlie and Dad sat and looked at the glass. There, on the news, on channel 15, what did they see? A teeny, tiny, freshly-born little bean of a baby.


“Dad, where do babies come from?� asked Charlie.


“Babies come from a grand land, where mommies and daddies spin and whirl, riding together on purple elephants until they twirl into love. After it’s over, when it comes time to go, they fly to the souvenir store, and pick out their baby boy or girl.� 10


“I don’t know, Dad,” said Charlie. “That doesn’t seem right. Are you sure you’ve made a baby before?” 11


The next day, Charlie fetched a snack for his teen brother, Dean. Surely Dean, and his smartphone, would know? “Dean, where do babies come from?� asked Charlie.


“Babies come from ladies, Charlie. When girls finish high school, they each get some special candy put in their hats. When they want a baby, they just eat a treat—and pouf! A baby pops into her belly.”


“I don’t know, Dean,” said Charlie. “That doesn’t seem right, either. Are you sure you know how to Google?”


Later, at school, Charlie still felt like a fool. When he threw out his trash, he couldn’t help but ask: “Janitor Bob, where do babies come from?”


Janitor Bob thought & thought & thought. “Charlie, you really ought to know the truth about youth: babies come from the government.�


“I don’t know, Janitor Bob,” said Charlie. “I know you’re no amateur, but that doesn’t seem right. Dad says the government doesn’t do anything.”


On the way home, Charlie saw an old lady, who didn’t look too crazy. “Excuse me, madam, but do you know where babies come from?” Charlie asked.


The lady patted Charlie’s head and said, “My babies came from bright nights when my husband and I dressed up just right. We played games—a lot like... ping pong, with hard paddles, and big balls—and from the fun came our little Billy, Willy, Jilly, and Bob.”


“I don’t know, lady,” said Charlie. “That doesn’t seem right; everyone knows that no one plays ping pong at night!”


That evening, Dad and Charlie were watching the TV, when Dad unwrapped a big, red-and-white striped candy. “NO!” Charlie yelled, slapping it to the moon. “Dad! If you eat that candy, you’ll end up with a baby in your belly!”


“Why do you think that, Charlie?” Dad asked.


“I know it seems dumb, but I’ve been asking everyone where babies come from.”


“Babies come from f***ing, Charlie,” Dad said. “But the truth is, f***ing is gnarly. Babies come when a man puts his hands and face and other body parts on and in and around a woman. They roll around and get sweaty for about four minutes, then the man sprays his own brand of silly string into the woman. Nine months later, a baby is born.”


Charlie thought about what his dad said. “That’s really unrealistic, Dad,” said Charlie.


“I think Janitor Bob must have been right. Boy, I better apply for one soon!�


Babies Come from F***ing, Charlie  

"Babies Come from F***ing, Charlie" is humourous, not-necessarily-appropriate-for-children children's book that explores one of the bigger q...

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