Happy birthday: I'm a dad. The bitch finally farted out my
little baby. It stinks, cries, and embarrasses me to hell.
All that crap about the joy of parenting does not apply to
our Production Unit. The tree-hugging slut wanted to call it
"Birch" but I said no way. My bundle of meat is going to
have a serial number:

{5C87A465-2347-4191-8AE9-D9DA779D9223}

In school, the other brats can call her 5C for short. When
she gets knocked up (as she eventually will, having her
mom's whoring gene) she can simply add one for the next in
line. As for me, I'll be around for a wholesome male role
model. After all, I don't want her to become no fucking
lesbo. She needs me to show her who she should fuck. One
thing's for sure, I'm getting the tree-hugging slut's tubes
tied. We have enough good people in this sewer as it is.

(Brought to you by the Ministry of Population Growth
Control)