Angus McGlenlevie, Professor of English at Herbert Hobart University and author of the best-selling poetry collections Erotica in Reeboks and Rapture on the Rapids, was hard at work in his office responding to a sudden attack from the poetic muse. He had just chosen Scattering Seeds of Love as the working title for his newest book of verse and begun the first poem when the telephone rang.

The caller was evidently a scatteree, for she screamed into his ear, "I'm pregnant!"

Gus was delighted. Having witnessed the birth of quintuplets to the wife of a police officer--having, in fact, been the birth poet to the charming babies--Gus had been overwhelmed with the desire to be a father, to savor the delights of domesticity and the excitement of seeing himself replicated in a new life.

An unromantic judge, who issued a restraining order, had forced Gus to give up his pursuit of Sarah Tolland, his ex-wife and first choice to mother Gus junior. Gus had then widened his sights, looking for a younger, more nubile candidate, one who would appreciate being the focus of attention from a famous poet. His students, both the dreamy-eyed young poetesses in his classes and the healthy, firm-bodied volleyball Amazons he coached on the women's intramural team, were always suitably receptive.

And now the long-anticipated event had occurred. A lady of his choice had conceived. He could look forward to the first stirring of his child in the womb, to sonograms, to birthing classes, to the delivery, to dandling the little one on his knee, to reading it his poetry.

"My dear, I am delighted." He tried to guess which of his choices had been the lucky winner, as it were, of the McGlenlevie Reproductive Sweepstakes.

"Delighted? You're delighted?" she gasped.

To McGlenlevie the young woman sounded rather hysterical. Perhaps her hormonal balances were changing in response to the coming blessed event.

"You were supposed to be taking care of things," she said accusingly.

"I did," said Gus, who had taken care. He'd punched holes in all his condoms, but he didn't mention that to the mother of his child. "We'll have to think of this as our little miracle," he advised her cheerfully.

"Don't be an ass," she snapped. "I'm not having a baby."

"Nonsense, my dear. We'll marry, have a delightful family life--"

"You, me, the baby, the girls' volleyball team, and every female on campus who writes poetry," she interrupted angrily. "No one but you would consider that family life."

He was glad to note that her hysteria seemed to have abated. "Fatherhood will make a new man of me," Gus promised.

There was a moment of silence. Then she said, "You wanted this baby, didn't you?"

"Of course I want our child," he replied. "What man would not want such a lovely girl as his wife and the mother of his offspring?"

"You planned this!"

"Well, ah--" She wasn't taking her good fortune as well as he'd expected. And which one was she? She hadn't identified herself. It might seem a bit tactless to admit that he didn't know which girl he'd impregnated. "Ah--we must think of names. If it's a girl, we'll want to name her after you. Try it out with McGlenlevie, my dear. I long to hear the name of my future daughter from your lips."

"You don't even know who I am, do you? I could be any volleyball player."

Gus chuckled. She had given herself away. He had chosen four girls initially: two volleyballers, two poetesses. Therefore, he now knew to whom he was speaking. Kimberly Sweet. The other athletic darling, a center, had a deeper voice. "Of course I know, Kimberly. If we weren't on the telephone, I'd go down on bended knee to propose, but since--"

"Don't bother. I'm getting an abortion."

Gus felt a moment of panic. "I'll get a restraining order."

"And I'll have you arrested for--for statutory rape or--or impregnating a minor."

"Now, Kimberly, you were charmingly willing, and you're not a minor."

"I hate you!" she cried and hung up.

Gus sighed. He'd expected a better response. If Kimberly was going to be difficult, perhaps one of the other girls would turn up pregnant. Although he doubted it. He'd been trying since December, and Kimberly was the first. He had a date with Carla in--he glanced at his watch--an hour. Should he try with her? Or attempt to change Kimberly's mind about the abortion? Surely the father had some say. Gus didn't really know. He'd never been in this position. Heretofore, he'd preferred that his ladies not become pregnant. He'd taken pains to see that they didn't.

Trying to look at the matter from Kimberly's point of view, to be sensitive to her concerns, Gus was reassured to realize that girls tended to panic when they found themselves pregnant. The result of some ancient female instinct no doubt. But after all, these were the days of legal abortion. Here at H.H.U. the Nazi doctor at the Health and Reproductive Services Center would provide an abortion for any coed who could bear to sit through an unpleasant lecture on sexual responsibility.

Gus himself had been the target of such a lecture. It had occurred--where?--ah, at the Wednesday afternoon prayer and cocktail party held every other week by President Sunnydale. No wonder Kimberly was upset! It was the prospect of facing Dr. Greta Marx. And who could blame the girl for being wary of such a belligerent woman? Satisfied that he'd found the source of Kimberly's doubts, Gus decided that a face-to-face interview would calm his future wife and restore her happiness, for she was usually a perky, good-humored girl.

He'd have to stop dating, he mused. During his first marriage, Sarah had always been unduly irritated by his female admirers. Still, a few sacrifices were little enough to make in return for the anticipated pleasure of fatherhood.

Gus reached for the telephone to break his date with Carla. That done, he reread the poem he had started for Scattering Seeds of Love. The blessed news from Kimberly should be a source of special inspiration.