Baby Boy Or Cheese Cake? You Decide

As yet another week goes by waiting for the Tech Grad to spew forth her offspring, rumors are beginning to circulate that she is not pregnant at all. Her older brother, The Terminator, has begun to muse that perhaps the Tech Grad's alledged pregnancy is not a pregnancy at all but a cover story for a nine month cheese cake orgy. "I'm not sure if she is having contractions or intestinal cramps," says The Terminator. "I wonder if what she really needs is some laxatives, a good book and two hours on the potty."

Even her late grandmother has spoken from the beyond. "My gawd, girl. Look at yo' hay-ya. You look mis-erble. Maybe you need some Senecots." (The previous quote is a phonetically correct Lynchburg, Va. accent).

Her hubby, Just Dean, has been finding suspicious crumbs around the house. "There's just crumbs everywhere. She blames the animals." No one knows whether or not the rumor is true. "Don't ask me," says The Terminator. "I just start the rumors. It's an Army thing."

Developing . . .