I don't mean to sound vain, but truth be told, I was highly intelligent from a very young age. At just over 24 hours old, with no training in mathematics, this little single cell was already doing division.
Those first nine months were the best months of my life. I was comfortable, warm and safe. Everything was soft, peaceful and quiet. [fart joke deleted] It was like being in a paradisiacal Garden. No rent, no mortgage. I toiled not for my food, it was given like manna from Heaven. I didn't even have to breathe! How cool is that? It was like what 20 year old Communists think Communism is like as long as they've never endured it.
Very early on though, I did have a slightly disappointing notion that I was meant for something more. Don't get me wrong, there's no shame in being in utero. It's just that I felt my potential was somewhat limited.
Eventually, like the Jews in the wilderness, I started complaining. The accomodations were not to my liking. I began to get restless. At about 20 weeks, I began moving. But there was nowhere to move to.
Then one day, something strange happened. I had the sensation of being pushed, and although they were muffled, I could hear the anguished cries, screams, yells, grunts and moans of someone who was obviously being tortured. "May God curse the cruel person responsible for inflicting such torment!" said I.
On a sudden, I realized I was being pushed towards the place (whatever a "place" is) from which this weeping and gnashing of teeth emanated. I was sure I was dying, and if I wasn't dying, I wanted no part of this place.
So I devised a plan. I managed to turn myself around 180 degrees from the direction towards which I was being pushed. That way, I could use my feet to brace against the forward motion. In the process I managed to wrap my umbilical cord around my neck. My memory is foggy; I can't recall if this was an accident or a suicide attempt.
In any event, my plan was foiled. My mother later told me that the doctor decided at the last minute that he had to do an emergency C-section to save both our lives. Afterwards the doctor told my mom that it was the longest, bloodiest and most dangerous C-section he'd ever done.* Mom never forgave me for that, and loved to remind me of it on every birthday of mine.
The only other things I remember of that day are being cold, and being physically assaulted by a slap to the butt, completely unprovoked. This was not good. Then I knew that man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward.
* The stuff about trying to come out feet first, getting the cord around my neck, and the bloody C-section is true.