On my way back from the store just now, a tiny little insect fetus materialized in front of my face, hanging from an invisible thread. I chose to express my surprise with a sharp intake of breath--in retrospect, not a wise choice. Retrospection is just about the most useless activity you can engage in, surpassed only by watching Judge Hatchett, because it can change nothing whatsoever, at least until they perfect the time machine, and judging from sci-fi movies, they're a tragically long way from that goal. Anyways, my preferred indication of surprise set into motion the unforgiving laws of science, and the tiny little insect fetus was impelled into the nether regions of my mouth. Remembering my Boy Scout First Aid Merit Badge manual, I immediately began hacking and spitting and jumping about, causing an orderly if revolted detour of passers-by into the street, allowing me a clearance of five or six feet on either side in which to fling saliva. The thing is, I'm not aware of having actually passed the tiny little insect fetus, so the possibility remains that I'm carrying it to term. I don't believe that makes me pregnant--even science is not that unforgiving. But I am experiencing a feeling I imagine is not unlike morning sickness. I don't think it's too soon for anesthesia.