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X Pat meets Spock’s parents

 

X Pat is invited to a Star Trek convention but winds up in a maternity ward where he midhusbands an infant half Vulcan.

 

January 2007

 

Like some alien cohen or high priest, I signed the Vulcan open-handed salute as my pointy-eared disguise stared back with raised eyebrows at me from the mirror. “Never thought I’d ever go to a Star Trek convention,” I thought to myself as I wondered what it would be like to be amongst all those Trekky geeks and freaks.

 

Mounted upon my Vespa, I couldn’t get my helmet on around my pointy ears. A passing policeman stared at my elven features in disbelief. “Live long and prosper,” I saluted.

 

“Why are you not wearing your helmet, monsieur?” the officer asked me.

 

“It’s really quite logical, Captain Kirk,” I said in my best Vulcan immitation, “it doesn’t fit.”

 

“Are you trying to be funny?”

 

“It is not in my nature, officer,” I assured him.

 

“What do you think the chances are that I will fine you?”

 

“It’s difficult to be precise,” I mulled. “But I should say approximately 2.3215 to one.”

 

While the policeman was shaking his head in confused disbelief, I quietly rode my scooter away.

 

But intuition stirred in my human gut telling me that this didn’t feel right. Then, my Vulcan rationality started questioning what the logical connection was between that young mother at the Christmas market telling me that I was an awful parent for informing her son that Santa Claus had died centuries ago and her then inviting me to a Star Trek convention.

 

“We’re holding a Dr Spock revival at the weekend. You should come along and learn what real parenting is about,” she had ordered.

 

But now as pedestrians and motorists pointed at me and laughed as I rode past on my unfuturistic Vespa, certain questions dogged me. Wasn’t he called Mr Spock or did he get a PhD in one of the later films? And what does the rational half Vulcan-half human know about raising children?

 

As I entered the non-descript events hall in Schaarbeek, I was seized by a sense of dreadful dread. “Peace and long life,” I greeted, holding my hand up in that extra-planetary salute.

 

A group of bored children cheered and started giggling in unison, while their miffed parents stared at this freak and some even started moving protectively towards their precious offspring. “I see you’re already learning the virtues of humility and having fun that Dr Spock espoused in his revolutionary approach to parenting,” the once-offended mother said in a conciliatory tone.

 

Text Box: I sat patiently through hours of involved debate about the relative virtues of ‘permissiveness’ and ‘discipline’ and whether Dr Spock had held back or progressed the cause of parenthood, while the children tugged at my ears and pulled faces at the alien that had landed in their midst.

 

“His ideas were too cuddly and lacked strictness,” one stern-looking father complained as his unruly son terrorised the other children.

 

“He simply recognised that children should be treated as individuals and with respect. He did not say they should not be disciplined,” another father defended, as his own daughter sat peaceably sucking her thumb.

 

The debate brought back memories of my own dear parents debating my upbringing late into the night while I eavesdropped upstairs. My Vulcan-like daddy, classicist and champion of humanity that he was, was so caught up in his universalist pursuits that he could not grasp the emotional aspect of fatherhood. His main contribution to my early years was to pick the hidden X in my name. My human mummy, on the other hand, treated me like a friend and confidant and gave me the room to be who I wanted to be.

 

Then a scream broke out. “My God, the contractions,” a pregnant mother-to-be cried out, whereupon her boyfriend fainted. The other parents were so immersed in their debate that it was left to me to rush her to the maternity ward on the back of my scooter. Mistaking me for the father, they let me attend the birth and I got the sort of intimate view of mother and child which I did not really desire.

 

“Congratulations, your daughter takes after you, too, sir,” the nurse said affectionately, touching the infant’s slightly pointy ears.

 

Next time, X Pat learns that having another man’s baby can be detrimental to his health and goes on a quest for peace of mind and physical well-being.

By Khaled Diab 

 

 

This article appeared in the January 2007 issue of (A)WAY magazine.

 

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More X Pat

Episode I – X Pat: Quantum leaps, beer and knitting

Episode II – X Pat and the chocolate factory

Episode II – X Pat: Don’t release until Xmas

 

 

 

 

ã2006 K. Diab. Unless otherwise stated, all the content on this website is the copyright of Khaled Diab.