2006-05-04 - 1:16 a.m.
What’s this you say? Tom Cruise ate his own baby’s placenta? Who knew? Can you imagine such a thing? There is this wonderous movie star – a man with a billion dollar smile, twinkly eyes that glitter just so, and a cheerful grin that utterly embodies the can do spirit of everything that is fabulous in America.
And there he is: On his hands and knees in the maternity ward, slurping up his own baby’s placenta, gnawing on it, the pus and blood dribbling down his chin like he was some kind of hideous outer space creature. Like he was some kind of total freak, which, of course, he is.
Such a freak that he should be exhibited at the Barnum and Bailey Museum. Can you imagine the scene? There’s dear Katie Hudson moaning and sighing as her little child spurts out of her recently waxed, movie star pussy. And “Uhh!” she moans and trembles, as the placenta splishes and splashes from her pussy onto the maternity ward floor.
“Whoopsy!” Dr. Stephen Yeltram, obstetrician to the stars, giggles, as he sidesteps the gooshy bloosh of blood, fluid, and membrane, which tumbles to the floor in a loud splat.
“Oh man!” gasps Tom Cruise, who happens to be in the birthing room, filming the entire scene on his Digicam. “Are you gonna use all that?”
Mister Cruise drops to his knees, scooping up handfuls of the placenta, shoving it into his perfectly curved mouth, the bloody spittle dribbling down his face, perhaps even getting caught in that expensive, oh-so-perfect dimple.
“Mmmmmm, gooood,” Tom Cruise slobbers. “Deeelishus. Now gimme the baby! Me hooongree for dessert!”
Dr. Stephen Yeltram gapes at the scene and is so disgusted, he gags -- and he suddenly spews onto the floor a stream of green and pink vomit, the remains of the morning’s lunch, a cobb salad and strawberry margarita. Tom Cruise reaches into his Scientology Today leather jacket and pulls out one of those funky combination bowl and spoons, and he starts lapping up the vomit, mixing it cunningly with his baby boy’s placenta.
“Nooo!” shrieks Miss Katie Holmes, struggling to sit up, even while the shreds of umbilical cord dangle from her outstretched fertility cave. “Tommy! What are you DOING? It’s filthy! It’s siiick! At least stir fry that placenta with some scallions – or cover it with some puff pastry to make a pot pie!”
Tom Cruise burps, the air filling fecund smell of half digested placenta and vomit. “Where’s my baby. I wanna KISS him!”
In the corner of the room, Tom Cruise’s publicist, the thin and whey-faced Kate Maitland Prune, looked on, stoney-faced. She whipped out her cell phone and phoned her contacts at E! Entertainment News.
“I am calling to announce the birth of Tom Cruise’s son. It was a happy and peaceful birth, and there were absolutely no complications whatsoever! And, no, I have no idea what all that slurping and slobbering is.”
For, you see, the line between beauty and ugliness is indeed thin. The excessively beautiful are freaks, too, you know. The Greeks believed that truth and beauty were the same – but that has proved not to be true. The same genetic roll of the dice that gives people hook noses, crossed eyes, club feet, and flippers-for-hands is the same that gives other folks twinkly eyes, dimpled chins, perfect asses, and nine inch penises. The extremely attractive are freaks, just as the extremely hideous.
You have only to look at Anna Nicole Smith to recognize this. Did you see how she won her case before the Supreme Court? Somehow this story amuses me. The idea of Anna Nicole, striding drunkenly into the Supreme Court building, her huge knockers bursting out of her halter top, and wowing all those justices kind of amuses me. Do you know that all nine of the Justices voted for her? That must have been one hot circle jerk behind that bench. Do you think that Justice Thomas gave Justice Scalia a nice reach around as Anna Nichole took the stand and shook her boobies and flashed her tata?
“Lady and Gentlemen of the Jury! I object!” Anna Nicole surely shrieked from the witness stand. “If being hot is a crime, then call me GUILTY!”
“Yes, m’dear,” Justice Kennedy must have croaked. “You do have a point. Would you mind spreading your legs one more time -- I haven’t seen a sight like that since The Battle of Bull Run!”
And then the doors to the Supreme Court slammed shut. And justice was served, my friends! Oh yes.
