ALL THE NEWS THAT FITS
a short story 
from "A Herd of Unicorns" 
by Ricardo Cabeza

I

The Inheritance

	The three young men sat across from Timothy Chan awaiting the
verdict of the investigation he had just completed.  The files had been
extensive.  He had documented the results of experiment after experiment
and charted those experiments against the records he had access to at the
birth registry.  There was no doubt, now, especially after the results of
the blood and D.N.A. testing.
	"You three are half-brothers," he announced.  "You share a common
father.  And," he added less professionally, "I guess we all know who that
is."
	There was a nervous snicker of laughter.
	"Does this mean we're triplets?" Marco inquired.
	"In the strictest sense of the word, no.  But if you think of it in
broad terms there is at least a common point of issue in all of your
births.  You were all fertilized with sperm from the same ejaculation
although your births range over one and a half years.  It would still be
inaccurate to say you are triplets since, to date, we have identified over
thirty births that share your common... predicament.  I'm not sure what the
proper term would be for that many babies from one birth, but since it was
more than one birth and more than one mother, perhaps we should term it
multiple births.  Let's just say you are all siblings."
	"So how does that affect our relationships?" Jeffy inquired.  "I
mean, are we guilty of incest because we had sex with each other?"
	"You are not guilty of anything," Timothy emphasized.  "Your
relationships are not affected by this, unless there is some way you have
found to get pregnant.  We don't have to worry about passing on problems to
your children, unless you happen to mate with one of the three sisters
we've been able to trace back to your father.  I would urge you to clear
any names of prospective brides with me should you decide to try the other
side of the street.  I will let you know if there are conflicts that should
concern you."
	"How about my folks?" Marco inquired.  "Do you think I should tell
them what we've found out?"
	"That's a decision you're going to have to make, Marco," Timothy
answered.  "Both you and Jefferson will have my full support.  I will
explain what happened to your parents for you if you like.  You fellows
have to understand that this is not your fault... it's not your
responsibility.  You had nothing to do with the decisions other people made
years ago.  There is only one culprit in the whole mess and he hanged
himself in a jail cell.  He put you into this present predicament.  He
victimized everyone, your father, included.  He stole Pascal's first
thirteen years of life.  Believe me when I say I know how that feels."
	"I guess it doesn't really matter about whether I tell them or
not," Marco thought aloud.  "I still won't ever be able to go back there.
Not after the things we said..."
	"You don't have to, man," Pascal reminded him and put his arm
around the boy's shoulders.  "But if Jeffy moves in we'll have to get a
king-sized bed."
	"I guess we should be happy there's only the three of us," Jeffy
remarked.  "It could have been a lot worse if one of us had been a little
more promiscuous."
	"I still don't understand how the three of us could be almost
exclusively attracted to each other," Marco wondered.  "I was almost
stalking Pascal, for Chrissakes!"
	"Yah," Jeffy commented, but didn't elaborate.
	"That is perhaps the easiest thing to explain," Timothy began.
"You see it all the time in cases where twins... or triplets are separated
at birth.  They grow up separately and when they find their siblings,
there's usually parallel development of interests, grooming habits, all
sorts of things."
	"But, dad, we weren't separated at birth," Pascal interjected.  "In
fact, our births were separate.  Our mothers were all different.  Well,
those mothers we know about anyway..."
	"But, son," Timothy responded, self-consciously.  He was, however,
gradually growing accustomed to the fact that Pascal was now his son, too,
"None of you can dispute that there was parallel development of interests,
your interest in computers, your sexual natures, all of your natural
abilities led the three of you into a collision course that was
unavoidable.  Remember, it was the Unicorn Club that finally got you three
together.  That was the common point your lives shared that none of the
others knew about... or if they did they had no other common reference
point to start from.  What really surprises me is that you haven't
encountered more of your siblings... But, then, who's to say you haven't,
and you just didn't recognize them?"
	"But we probably will?" Jeffy asked.
	"I think it's inevitable," Timothy answered.  "But that doesn't
mean you're going to know who they are any more than they'll know about
you.  I know this is probably the stupidest piece of advice I have ever
given, but, try to forget about it.  You're friends, you're lovers, enjoy
each other, have fun, and you will always know someone you can trust."
	They still had questions, of course.  But the questions were not of
a legal nature.  The questions they had were about themselves, and only
time would answer them.  They thanked Timothy and left him to his next job.
None of them envied him the task he had facing him.  He would now have to
trace the other patients of Doctor Bob and determine if the files on the
computer were accurate.  If they were he would be looking at thirty-three
more interviews with people who would not want to hear what he had to say.
	"Maybe we should start a club," Marco suggested as they stepped out
into the freezing Montreal wind.
	"Jesus," Pascal shuddered and pulled his collar up.  "This is
almost as bad as the day we hit the ice for the first time!"
	"That's a good name for our club," Jeffy contributed, "Starts On
Ice."
	Pascal was between the other two.  He administered the punishment
to Jeffy's head.
	"It makes you think, though, don't it?" Marco asked.  "What does it
matter how you start out, as long as that little bugger finds the egg.
After you're born there's just one way to go, ahead."
	"You're getting dangerously close to a philosophical dissertation,"
Pascal warned.  "I suppose it could have been worse though.  There's
thousands of those little guys in every ejaculation.  What if he'd had more
patients.  He could have tried to make a master race.  But based on what I
know about you guys, he'd end up with a masturbator race."  For this he
received an appropriate rebuke.  Marco went for the head, while Jeffy got
him in the ribs.  "I just feel like something has ended in my life.  Up
until now I was unique.  Now I'm one of three dozen."
	"I know how you feel," Jeffy agreed.  Before, when we'd have sex, I
used to feel kind of special because I'd found someone who liked me for
myself.  Now I guess I feel like maybe you only liked me because I was
another version of you."
	"I always liked you guys because you're the sexiest things I'd ever
seen," Marco insisted.  "If you remember, I blew my wad in my pants when
you were fingering each other at the Unicorn.  I still get horny when I
think about that."
	"You should have stayed for the finale!" Jeffy interjected
	"I agree with you, Marco," Pascal added.  "The best thing we had
going was the sex.  You're both still tops in my books.  I'd fuck you both
right here if it wasn't so fuckin' cold!"
	"I'd love to take you up on that," Marco grinned, "but I've got a
class in twenty minutes."
	"Well, I'm free," Jeffy offered.  "Let's get rid of the Wop and
I'll show you how we Philippino members of the family operate."
	"You're on, Jeffy!" Pascal flagged a cab and they dropped Marco off
on the way to the apartment.
	Pascal Sr. was working out to a home exercise video when they
arrived.  The inches were creeping up on him as surely as the years had.
He quickly flicked it off though and switched off the television as well.
The boys faced him in the doorway.
	"Well?" he said.
	"Dad, meet Jeffy, your new bouncing baby boy," Pascal grinned.
	"I already know the results of the tests," Pascal Sr. explained.
"What I want to know is how you feel, Jeff... er... son."  He hadn't
planned it to come out that way.
	"Oh, I'm okay, Mr... " Jeffy looked to Pascal Jr. for help.  Pascal
had been adopted by his uncle making his last name "Chan".  He had been
born a "Montague" sharing the name of the late doctor who had brought him
into the world and tried unsuccessfully to reverse the procedure over
eighteen years later.  But no one had ever introduced Pascal Sr. to him as
anything other than "dad" or "father" and although the appellations were
also ones Jeffy could now rightfully use, he suddenly realized he didn't
know what his family name was.
	"Cartier," Pascal Jr. prompted.  "But he also answers to 'dad'
quite often.  And come to think of it he will probably answer to it more
often from now on."
	"Are you sure you're okay with this, Jeffy," Pascal Sr. pressed.
"I'd hate to end up with another basket case like your brother here."
	"I'm really happy to know what happened," Jeffy answered.  "I've
had so many questions all these years.  Most of them are explained now.
Pascal has been the best friend I ever had.  I'm sure he'll make a great
brother too."
	There was an awkward moment.  It was so hard to tell with these
orientals.  "Them and their damned inscrutability," Pascal Sr. thought.  It
was, of course, Pascal Jr. who broke the ice.  He pushed Jeffy across the
room to his father.  They hugged.  Then they cried.
	Pascal did not get laid that afternoon.
 
II

Read All About It

	The three boys gained some notoriety at the Unicorn Club after the
rumours got out.  One week they performed the first trio ever witnessed on
any Unicorn stage.  It was a perfectly synchronized burlesque performance
done to Eine Kleine Nachtmusik and they brought the house down again.
Another Unicorn classic had been created.
	It was just a matter of time before the rumours hit the press.
Surprisingly all of the Montreal papers missed it.  The first reporter to
catch on was a correspondent from the Examinor, a Florida based national
magazine with a circulation of over three million.  He hadn't been looking
for it either.  He'd been on the InterNet in his office in Key Biscayne
researching a story about the supposed descendants of the Montagues of
Romeo and Juliet fame.  A crack-pot author in Essex, England claimed that
the family tree went back to the time Shakespeare had written about.  He
further stated that the descendants were now living in Canada, more
specifically, somewhere in Quebec.  The search brought the reporter to a
directory on a computer in a library in Montreal.  What he found there was
almost a gigabyte of some of the juiciest material he had come across in
years.  All of it appeared to be extremely well-documented.  He could see
the headlines already,
 "MONTREAL QUEER, FATHER OF THE YEAR!!!"
	He booked a flight to Montreal for the next day and began sorting
through the hundreds of files in the directory.  Eventually he just
downloaded the whole damned thing.  He stored them on his portable computer
and went home to pack.
	The drive in from the airport was long and tedious.  It was a
Friday afternoon.  The traffic was going equally poorly in both directions.
That was probably because of the blizzard.  The airport bus crawled along
at a snail's pace.  He didn't mind though.  He had a lot of research to do
on the files loaded onto his portable computer.  There was no one in the
business quite as thorough as Ron Gerow.  He would stay up all night if he
had to in order to get a handle on the story.  He had done it last night.
After cat-napping on the plane he was ready to do it again.
	That would get him to the library bright and early the next
morning... well early anyway.
	The bus pulled under the canopy of the Monarch Hotel.  "Aha!" he
thought as he climbed down and showed the porter his bag, "the scene of the
crime."  Already a story had formed in his head.  It was hard not to let it
just write itself from the files in his computer.  But the files hadn't
contained any photographs.  They had mentioned some.  They had listed a
series of video tapes too, thirty-nine of them to be exact.  The titles of
them had been evocative, Bolero, Scheherezade, Suite for Cello, Jazz... It
would be disappointing if the doctor had just mixed up the files of his
favourite music collection with those from his practice.  It would also be
highly unlikely.  This man's mind did not work like that.  He might be mad,
but he was also brilliant.  And he would make a formidable foe.