‘So you’re not even considering having a kid?’ my mum asks on the phone. “Lots of gay guys do it. I saw it on Queer as Folk on SBS, so I know it’s true.’

‘Mum, why are you watching Queer as Folk?’ I sigh. ‘My life is nothing like that, and you know it.’

‘Well, you never know. Maybe it’s something you should consider.’

I grunt dismissively. ‘Mum, the chance of Adam and I having a kid is as likely as MTV Presents: Tool Unplugged.’

‘Lol,’ she replies.

‘Mum,’ I hastily hiss down the phone.

‘Lol!’ she continues.

‘Mum, you’re saying LOL out loud. You only type it on the internet.’ She’s still learning.

‘Well, I’m if you’re ever going to have a child, I’m sure you’ll see the signs.’

This horrendous prophetic thought echoes around my head all day, and it’s when I settle down for my usual daily viewing of Will & Grace that I begin to worry. Today’s plot centres around Will donating sperm to impregnate a female friend.

I shift around awkwardly in my couch and look around nervously, as if a toddler is going to casually amble into the room at any moment. It freaks me out so much I force myself to turn off the television and walk outside.

I’m met with the sight of one of our neighbours desperately attempting to cram what appears to be a month’s worth of garbage into a modestly sized garbage chute. As she slams the chute door back and forth, attempting to jam everything in, a bulky plastic bag is regurgitated out.

‘Oh!’ she exclaims. ‘All these nappies,’ and I can tell that I’m supposed to nervously laugh along with her as neighbours do in an apartment building, but I can only widen my eyes and back up slowly to the safety of my apartment.

I reason that as long as I sit in one place, and don’t do anything until Adam gets home, it will all be fine. Our groceries are due to be delivered within the hour anyway.

The groceries and Adam arrive at my door at the same time, half an hour later. Eagerly, we begin poking around in the box of this week’s delivery.

See, there’s always a surprise in our groceries. We order them from a website every week (works out cheaper and easier, especially because we’re both usually so busy with work), but they always seem to get our order a little wrong. It’s not so much a question of items missing from our order, but what appears to be items from other people’s orders accidentally included in ours.

Adam is the first to find a wayward item: a small box depicting a teddy bear, enthusiastically waving a spoon in adoration of Farex Baby Cereal. This isn’t looking good.

Growing worried, I crouch down on the floor to take a better look inside the box. Eyeing it off warily, I rummage around and manage to find a jar of Heinz Pear ‘n’ Banana Baby Mush. My heartbeat quickens and I begin to step back.

Adam slowly pulls out a packet of Heinz Multigrain Baby Cereal, with packaging that features a gurgling infant no doubt crapping itself as the photo was shot.

‘Adam,’ I say with all the urgency I can. ‘My mum was talking about us having a kid and first there were gay people having kids on TV and then there was people with nappies outside and now there’s baby food in our apartment and I’m growing worried.’

Deep breath.

‘Well,’ chortles Adam. ‘All we need now is a wayward item which indicates pregnant cravings and we’ll be all set.’

My eyes widen, and I retrieve two cans of condensed milk from the carton, which we never ordered.

‘Oh,’ Adam says quietly, and crosses his arms worriedly.

I sprint to the bedroom and grab two jackets. ‘Right, we’re going.’

‘Where?’ queries Adam.

‘To have sex in front of some big powerlines for as long as we can and kill every active sperm in our bodies,’ I explain in an annoyed fashion.

‘Really?’ is the confused reply.

I stomp up to him and look him in the eye. ‘Look. If you want to wait ’til later - hands off my detonator.’ (Apologies to Melissa Tkautz).

‘Rightey-oh then,’ he agrees, and we don our jackets.

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