OK, kids, first person singular: I, Scanner Bryan, am an adoptee. My biological parents were 15 and, er, 19 (I think) -- just a couple kids in a jam who felt that handing off their newborn to another couple would be the best thing for all concerned. That's not a decision that I've ever regretted their making, and frankly, although being adopted can often be the source of great insecurity, social confusion, and even tendancies towards self-destruction, I've quite literally never had any problems with it whatsoever.
Why do I mention this? Because the following scenario, which may just sound gross or crazy or kinky to non-adoptees, is still pretty much my worst fucking nightmare. (PS: Major spoiler ahead if your knowledge of mid-90's indie movies isn't fairly encyclopedic.)
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