Bathroom Monologue: John's asked to talk someone’s husband into practicing the route to the hospital for when she gives birth

"Hey, there's an eight pound tumor shooting out of ____'s crotch. Do you really want to rely on a satellite telling you to turn left, or do you want check the drive once or twice? Because that's the situation, and the stakes are as steep as a placenta splattering off your windshield."

 (Actual names withheld because I don't want them to kill me)