The following is a story I wrote in my Creative Writing class. My teacher and I got quite a charge out of it and it angered several teachers that were democrats: Thats odd, I thought to myself. I thought I was guaranteed life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness by the Declaration of Independence. Well, you arent a man yet; you are just 17 years old, replied my mom, a former womens rights activist. The decision to abort you is still my choice as a woman. I just stood there in amazement. I had no right to live because it was my mothers right to choose. She dropped by the front desk of the pharmacy to tell me that she couldnt afford to send me to college and didnt want to live in shame because of me; so she was aborting me. Ever since the Democrats took control of the Senate, House, and Supreme Court, Womens Rights has been progressed. Im sorry, son, but youre no more than a mass of tissue to me. Its OK, though; Im donating your dead body to the stem cell research center so some rich actor can walk again. Isnt abortion just murder by another name? I pleaded. I knew my argument was falling upon deaf ears. My mother is a self-described feminist that still lives in the seventies. Look, its not an issue of life or death. Its an issue of me, as a woman, not wanting to have a child. Its my choice. All at once my mothers comments hit me like a ton of bricks: my mother was serious about aborting me. Was it not the choice of those crazy men in the movie Texas Chainsaw Massacre to kill innocent people? Murderers still have to suffer the consequences of their choices. Are you likening my choice to abort you to murder? Thats so insensitive. Who are you to tell me what is right for me? My mother was quite angry with me, and, as head pharmacist of the drugstore, she fired me.