To write regularly, all writers need fresh inspiration from time to time. Where it comes from isn’t always obvious, but often it comes from the strangest of places. The inspiration for this story came from the classified ads of my local paper… I wanted to write something a little wacky
and off the wall, so here it is…
Sam saw the ad in the paper for sperm donors – twenty pounds per ‘sample’. With money being a bit tight – well, when wasn’t money tight for a student – easy money, Sam thought. Sam noted down the address. It was only a short bus ride away, no reason to delay…
“I’m Sam Hillman, here about the ad.” Sam informed the receptionist.
“What ad. is that?” She asked.
“The one in the paper, twenty pounds for sperm donations.” Sam replied.
The receptionist frowned and gave Sam a somewhat quizzical look:
“The sperm donors wanted ad?.. That’s definitely the one you’re here about?”
“Yes, that’s the one.” Sam replied, wondering at her obvious scepticism.
“Erm.. Could you wait here a moment while I get my supervisor, please?”
“Yeah, sure.” Sam replied, and took a seat in the waiting room as the receptionist disappeared through a door behind her desk. Five minutes later, an older man in a white coat returned with the receptionist…
“Well? You see what I mean don’t you?” Sam heard the receptionist whisper to whom Sam presumed must be one of the clinic’s medical staff.
“Yes, well, I’ll take it from here.” Sam heard the man in the white coat whisper back.
“Well Sam, it is Sam is it?” The white coat asked.
“Yes, that’s right,” Sam confirmed, adding, in anticipation of the next question, “here about the sperm donors wanted ad.”
“Ah …Yes, so my colleague said.” The white coat said. Sam could see he was a little perplexed: “Is there a problem?” Sam asked.
“Err… Well, I’m not sure… You have read the ad? You… do understand… what it entails don’t you? What… exactly… we need from you.”
“Yes, of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”
Sam was getting quite frustrated at all the questions, thinking it would all be over and done with by now, and twenty pounds the richer…
“Yes, of course, why wouldn’t you, what I meant was…” The white coat paused, not quite sure how to continue…
“Well, I’m really not sure how to put this,” the white coat said, now almost stuttering to get his words out, “are you absolutely sure about this? What I mean to say, rather, what I’m trying to say is, I mean, is that, well…”
“For fucks sake,” Sam exclaimed, “what is it you’re saying?”
“Well, to be a sperm donor…” The white coat paused before continuing, “there are… certain requirements… that have to be met, that the donor has to meet first.”
Sam was trying desperately hard to remain calm and composed, despite the white coat’s seemingly determined efforts to prevent that…
“Will you please, just please; tell me what the problem is?” Sam asked in the most condescending voice imaginable.
“The problem, as you put it,” the white coat began. He paused for a moment, then adding:
“Is that… Err.. You’re a woman!”
“And?” replied Sam.
“Isn’t it obvious? You need to be a man! To have testicles!”
Sam laughed before answering: “Well I might not have testicles, but my boyfriend certainly does. And like most boyfriends, he’s a lazy sod. That’s why I’m here instead of him.”
And on that note, Sam, short for Samantha, promptly produced a small vial with the required sample…