[Content warnings: reference to teen pregnancy]

Noah stood in the cell, hands on the bars, staring out, just so that he would not have to look at his disappointment of a mother. He couldn't believe he had been arrested for her.

Anita was laying on the prison cot, hand over her aching head.

If only standing up had worked.

"So ..." she trailed, not looking over. "How many ... ladies?"

"Shut up." Noah grunted.

Anita did what she did best: ignore her children.

"When a man and a woman love each other very much..." Anita started, louder.

Noah turned red and finally looked at his mother. "They fuck. I know. And some men and women don't love each other but do it because they are drunk and can't fucking control themselves even though they've already pooped out too many babies!"

A prison cell was such a good place for family therapy.

Anita frowned deeply.

"Oh, no, Noah," she said gently. "The baby comes out of the cunt."

She circled in the air to the appropriate area.

Noah opened his mouth. And closed it again. "Will you shut up, you stupid cow?!" he shouted.

"It was a cow?" she misheard through her pounding headache.

Oh God! ... Thank God?

"You really shouldn't do that, it's... icky, but, just a cow, right?"

Which would mean no additional kids to drink to.

"UGH!" Noah groaned in frustration. "I hate you!" he shouted. Suddenly it was all too much. "I hate you so fucking much! Why can't you ever be sober!?"

Anita cringed at the loud noise and frowned deeper. He was yelling. That probably meant a real girl. Alright.

She was not the slightest prepared for this. She had not been the slightest prepared for this after the first, when Harry stopped doing the things she thought he'd do forever and hoped it was just a spell.

"What's her name?"