The Smythe-Fanshaw Surrogate

Mike Rashoff sent this in....


The Smythe-Fanshaws were unable to conceive children. They reluctantly at first, but then decisively elected to use a surrogate father to start the family they wanted so badly.

On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smythe-Fanshaw, putting a brave face on it, kissed his wife goodbye and said, "Well, I'm off now. The man should be here soon."

Ten minutes later, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale.

"Good morning, Ma'am", he said, "I've come to--''

"Oh, no need to explain," Mrs. Smythe-Fanshaw cut in, embarrassed, "I've been expecting you."

"Have you really?" said the photographer. "Well, that's good. Did you know babies are my specialty?"

"Well that's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat"

After they were seated she timidly inquired, "Well, where do we start?"

"Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there."

"Bathtub... living room floor?"

"Well, Ma'am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results."

"Six or seven...." gasped Mrs. Smythe-Fanshaw.

"Ma'am, in my line of work a man has to take his time. I'd love to be in and out in five minutes, but I'm sure you'd be disappointed with that."

"Don't I know it," said Mrs. Smythe-Fanshaw quietly.

The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. "This was done on the top of a bus," he said.

"Oh dear," she uttered.

"And these twins turned out exceptionally well, especially when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with."

"She was difficult?" asked Mrs. Smythe-Fanshaw.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. We finally had to go to the park to get it right. People were crowding around four and five deep to have a look."

"Four and five deep..." mumbled Mrs. Smythe-Fanshaw distractedly.

"Yes", the photographer replied. "And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling. I could hardly concentrate and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in."

Mrs. Smythe-Fanshaw leaned forward. "Do you mean they actually chewed on your, er, equipment?"

"It's true, Ma'am. Well, if you're ready, I'll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away."

"Tripod?"

"Oh yes, Ma'am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's too big and heavy to be held in the hand very long."

Mrs. Smythe-Fanshaw rose from her chair and headed for the wetbar.

"Normally, I don't drink this early. Today is a different story."