When it comes to getting pregnant, or fearing becoming pregnant, it’s always–but always–the “man’s” fault. He can spin the yarn all he wants about saying the woman he had sex with was a slut and therefore didn’t deserve use of a condom, but, ultimately, it’s the panisse that expels the seed, not the vag. The culpability is clear. Thus, the least a “man” can do to compensate for the pleasure he hath snatched from a woman’s snatch is offer her a pregnancy test when she tracks him down at his place of business and tells him that she might be with child.

The appropriate (first) response is to apologize to her for contaminating her potential freedom from the lifelong burden of caring for another, and then go to the cash register (he presumably works at McDonald’s, after all) to take out $50 (one of the most expensive pregnancy tests at Walgreens is $42.99) in cash and hand it to her obsequiously, with an expression of contrition, to boot. This isn’t the type of thing to skimp on–a woman needs a real answer–not a reply that’s tantamount to getting one from a Magic 8 Ball, which, by the way, is what some “men” would rather pay for to get a response about the state of their paternity as a result of its affordability.