In the Blood

There was once a man whose parents were siblings. They were southern stock, backwoods Apalachians. His father was a jailbird and his mother was an abusive drunk. His family had a history of violence, incarceration, drug addiction, public indecency, and of course, inbreeding. The man, knowing all this, was afraid of what would happen to him. Mostly, he was afraid he would wind up falling for his sister/cousin/second-cousin/third-cousin/aunt. She was terribly pretty, after all: she wasn’t missing any teeth.

There is no national help hotline for incest.

So the man saved up his money and started one, going to college on a full academic scholarship, getting his doctorate in psychotherapy, saving up his earnings, founding a charity for products of incest and general wellfare for less fortunate areas in the South, marrying a lovely man named Gustavo, and adopting three beautiful Chinese babies. He finally got braces at the age of thirty-four.