How I Met Your Mom



1967

On a clear highway. Susan' s car is on the side of the road. No cell phone. Night's coming. She just finished helping on a women's rights march, and a civil rights march is this weekend. A fine time for her car to break down.

Back on campus awaits Louis. Smart, bookish. A self-described feminist who holds the utmost respect for women around the world...and a total bore to her. Sparkplug may have found being a participant in a family dinner more fun than usual. He just got done eating with mom and dad, and hearing Jeremiah scream at Ron that he is listening to the Devil's music and black magic, and Ron merely grinning and baiting his fundamentalist father.

Sparkplug is roaring down the highway in his tricked out muscle car, fuming and taking his suppressed anger out on the road. Susan...no mechanic herself, has the hood open, totally baffled by the steam that's coming from under the hood. She hears the first sign of automotive life in an hour and eagerly steps to the highway...but then she hears the sound of a muscle car and quickly makes her way back to under the hood. "Shit..." she mutters.

Sparkplug spots the damsel in distress, and slams on his brakes, spinning the car around and leaving black tracks as he perfectly slides the car off the road right in front of Susan's car, the front of his car facing hers.

Susan...who has almost an active of an imagination as Buster, begins to think of the worst case scenarios. This brute will get out of the car, ruthlessly drag her into the woods and violate her, like a few horror stories she's been told about in her college dorm. Or worse, he'll threaten her with her life, drag her back to whatever slum he lives in, and force her to be his wife and vote Republican. Well...not on this woman's watch. Learning a trick from self-defense class, she carefully puts each key between her fingers...and makes a fist. She mutters "don't even think about it..."

Sparkplug checks his hair in the rearview mirror, turns down his 8-track, and opens the door to his car. Susan steels herself. But suddenly, she looks at Sparkplug - and for a flicker, something clicks within her. Something that lights a fire that only the most feverish of rallies could...no, it must be exhaustion. She waves her arm. "I'm...fine - just...getting this started again."

Sparkplug flashes her his most winning smile as he gets out of his car. Susan's eyes widen in alarm as she blurts out, "I said I was fine!" She then looks under the hood...at the radiator.

Sparkplug says, "Miss, if you don't mind, I know a few things about cars. I could take a look."

Sparkplug keeps his distance, but his eyes travel all over Susan's form.

Sparkplug closes his car door, but stands beside it, smiling at Susan.

Susan clutches her fist, full of keys. She gestures to the car. The radiator is out. But Susan tries to cover "I...uh...think...it was carborator...I mean...the oil...in the carborator...flooded..."

Strains of "Heartaches" by Ted Weems drift from Sparkplug's car.

Sparkplug nods, grinning. "Oh, yeah. That sounds about right. Mind if a take a look?"

He looks amused at Susan's assessment.

Susan nervously brushes her hair from her face. "Fine...but...my..uh...my boyfriend should be here any minute. Larry...I mean...Lon...I mean...Louis...he's..." She thinks.

"He's studying to be a scientist...so...yeah..."

Susan folds her arms impatiently as she looks at Sparkplug. And continues to look at him...and continues to look at him. Then she looks away.

Sparkplug says, "Sounds like quite a man."

Sparkplug says, "Let me just get my tools from the trunk."

Sparkplug twirls his keys in his hand, smiling to himself as he heads to the rear of his car.

Susan scoffs "That he is!" She waves her hand. "No! you're fine..."

Susan frowns. "Damnit, I said he'll be along!" She points to the road.

"So...just...move on...now."

Sparkplug looks over from the rear of the car, pausing before opening the trunk.

Susan chuckles slightly. "Uh...sir...this isn't the '50s. I...told you I got things covered. You can move on!"

Sparkplug says, "Are you sure? I could wait 'til your boyfriend arrives... in my car, if you're worried about me."

Susan folds her arms again and smirks. "I'm not...you don't intimidate me. Just..."

Sparkplug raises his dark eyebrows. "I'm not trying to intimidate you." He seems more

amused than insulted. usan can't help but laugh slightly. "I didn't say you DID intimidate me!" She goes back to the car and sighs, trying to unscrew the oil cap. "Just...think a little oil is all she needs."

Sparkplug says, "It sounds like it needs more than that, but I'm sure Larrylonlouis can

handle it." Susan looks in the car. "He's probably just late. He made the Dean's list...I'm sure he had to go to some...assembly." She frowns. "Look...if you're going to make fun of

me...then you might as well just hit the road..."

Susan keeps looking at Sparkplug's infectious smile.

Susan mutters "...whoever your name is."

Sparkplug says, "Oh. Sorry. My name is William... although my friends call me Sparkplug."

Sparkplug holds out a thick, calloused hand.

A wry smile hits Susan's face. "Is that supposed to impress me?" She extends a hand and flinches, feeling her utterly smooth, labor-deficient hand (think Buster before the Army) against Sparkplug's calloused hand. Sparkplug touches her hand with surprising dexterity and gentleness, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

Sparkplug says, "If you're sure you're safe here, and can give me Larrylonlouis's

number, I can go call him and tell him to move his ass and come get you.

As a devout feminist, Susan's feeling a flood of weird emotions. Against her upbringing

as a self-sufficient feminist, she feels an immediate warmth and sense of safety around

Sparkplug. She doesn't pull her hand away for a few seconds, then she snaps back into

reality. "Uh...let me just...get this...distributor cap...off (it's the oil cap)"

Susan frowns. "Look...Larry...I mean, Louis is a fine, upstanding man."

Sparkplug rasps, "Careful... that might be hot."

Sparkplug leans forward, like he reeeeally wants to take over, but is resisting thus far.

Susan looks at Sparkplug. "I know!" But Sparkplug's words are actually heeded. She

gives a resigned sigh and backs up. "Fine...suit yourself."

Sparkplug smiles, stepping close the engine and peering in. He glances at Susan, trying

to focus on the engine and not how close he now is to her.

GAME: Sparkplug PASSES a TECHNICAL roll of Average difficulty.

Susan's fist remains balled, keys inside, waiting to scratch the eyes of this

testosterone-filled brute who thinks she'll be impressed just because he can work on a car.

Sparkplug says, "Ah. I see your problem. If you give me a moment, I'll get you fixed

right up and on your way."

Susan turns around, warming to Sparkplug's optimism. "Really?"

Sparkplug flashes a smile at Susan.

Susan flashes a weak smile at Sparkplug. It's a mix of caution, ebbing cynicism, and

gratitude, and something that will be burned in Sparkplug's head for the rest of his life.

Sparkplug says, "Oh, yeah. I'd still love to check you out... I mean, the car out at my

garage, but I can getting running well enough to get you to the next town."

Susan gulps and mutters "Th..thanks."

 Spike lols. I know where Spike got his charm

Susan tilts her head. "So...you...work as a mechanic while going to college?"

 Sparkplug grins. "And his smoothness with women."

Sparkplug says, "Well, I work as a mechanic, as well as other odd jobs. I'm more of a ... self made man. And vet."

Susan makes an empathetic face. "Vietnam?"

The 'odd jobs' doesn't seem to rest well with Susan. Guess this isn't the one after all.

Sparkplug frowns in embarrassment. "Uh, Korea."

Maybe she likes older men?

Susan shakes her head in disbelief. "But you're like...25."

Sparkplug chuckles. "Thirty-one, actually. It's my boyish charm."

Susan makes her way to the car and gets her purse. No doubt Sparkplug will get this car working. The 'boyish charm' does it for her. He is NOT the one for her. Thank god, she has Louis...is that right? Yeah! Louis! back at home. She begins to fish out a $5 spot.

"I...uh...think $5 will do just fine for your services, wouldn't you agree?"

Sparkplug waves it off gruffly. He goes back to the car and returns with his heavy toolbox, arms flexing. There's nothing boyish about him... Sparkplug is all rough, unpolished man.

Susan rolls her eyes and sighs. "You're NOT leaving without taking this money!"

Susan seems to adopt almost a lecturing tone with Sparkplug. "Don't be so stubborn about this. I insist!"

Sparkplug frowns. "OK, little lady. Calm down. I get it." He opens his toolbox, taking out a few things and leaning forward under the hood. He does look good in those jeans, Susan of course doesn't notice. Not at all. That would be objectifying.

GAME: Sparkplug PASSES a TECHNICAL roll of Above Average difficulty.

Sparkplug works for a few minutes on the engine, then straightens up. If he catches her staring, he doesn't mention it.

Susan looks at Sparkplug hunched over a car. Damn. Centerfold-like scenario.

Still...his sexism makes her bristle. "Little lady? Is that supposed to be a joke?"

She briefly seems to get lost, scoping out Sparkplug's chest and jeans, before looking at him, and backing up cautiously. "I...I think...$5 should do...thank you...for...fixing me...my car."

Sparkplug opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it, looking confused. "Uh... you

are little, and a lady. It was a compliment... you are quite the barn burner."

Susan can only shake her head...and laugh. It will go down as one of the most intoxicating sounds Sparkplug has ever heard, up to this point. Mainly because Susan was the type who you had to earn your laughs from. "Uh...look...no offense, but the next girl you date...you really need to work on your charm...we are not all damsels in distress!"

Susan moves over and extends a hand to Sparkplug, hoping he'll shake her hand and be done with everything. "So...I thank you...and...yeah. That should do it. Thank you.

That was very...kind of you."

Sparkplug smirks. "Well, you need to work on engine maintenance, chick."

Sparkplug says, "Why don't you get in and start 'er up. Let's make sure this runs before I take off."

Susan's face suddenly turns and she frowns. "No...first off...you apologize. I'm NOT a

chick. Got it?!"

Susan frowns. "This...'chick' crap may work in a bowling alley, but not in the halls of a university!"

Sparkplug eyes widen. "I'm sorry if I offended you. I don't mean to be a crumb. I'll cut as soon as we get your car running again."

Susan nods. "Good..." She then gets in the car. Whaddyaknow? The car starts right up.

She gives a look of amazement at Sparkplug. "What did...what did you just do?!"

Sparkplug shrugs, waving it off again. "It was nothing. Do you, uh, need my number in case it breaks down again?"

Susan looks taken aback. She doesn't even know how to answer it. "Uh...no...I

think...see...I got my own..mechanic and..."

Susan adds "But thank you..."

Sparkplug nods resignedly. "OK. I'm booted. I'll leave you be."

Susan pauses, seeing Sparkplug about to leave. She closes her eyes. "Wait..."

Susan makes a circulating gesture with her hand (the one not armed with keys).

"It...wouldn't hurt...to have a backup...I guess."

Sparkplug turns, a smile returning to his face. "That's jake with me." He sets his

toolbox on the hood of his car, and digs in it until he pulls out a grease pencil. "Ok.

Shoot."

What did Sparkplug just do? She rattles off her number! After she says it, she shakes

her head. "No! I mean...what's your number! I didn't mean to give out my...forget that.

Just give me yours!"

She looks at the muscle car. Typical for someone of Sparkplug's socioeconomic class and

outdated views of women. "Is this how you pick up...'chicks'? With your hot rod?"

Sparkplug writes her number quickly on his toolbox. Years later, he still has that

toolbox with her number, still on the box.

Susan laughs. "No! Let's just...let's just have you give me your number!"

Sparkplug chuckles. "I don't prowl as much as I did when I was younger. Too busy

workin' these days. Got any way to write it down? Or are you just good with numbers?"

He grins.

OK, Susan's taught that women are the superior species, but she's rarely been this flustered and almost never has her heart been this erratic.

Susan goes to her car and gets her bookbag. She takes out a social studies book. A

Physics Book. A Civil Rights-themed book. And a notebook. She begins writing. "Just

your business number will be fine. I don't need your personal number."

Sparkplug says, "Here." He goes back to his trunk, and returns with a Buick Skylark owner's manual with his number written across the cover in grease pencil. When he returns and sees her with her text book and notepad, he says, "Oh."

Susan nods. "yeah...just - your work number." She shrugs and says casually "I mean...you seem nice, but I'm not a partier..."

Susan stands there, not entirely willing to get back into her car.

Sparkplug nods. "OK." He writes another number on the Skylark's owner's manual. "Here's the number for Shannon's garage. You can leave a message for me with him if I'm not there."

Susan nods. "Good...good..." She then pauses and grins. "Thanks..."

Sparkplug says, "My pleasure. Sure you don't want me to follow you at least into town?"

Susan shakes her head. "No...I'm fine. But thanks!" She then pauses and then gets into her car. "Well...I'll see yah."

Sparkplug grins. "I sure hope so! Larrylonlouis is a lucky man. I hope he appreciates what he's got." With a last smile, he throws his tools in the trunk and hops in his car, roaring the engine.

Susan drives to her dorm, totally stunned at herself and the events that just transpired. The next day, at her dorm, she indulges in a joint with her fellow classmates and makes a revelation. She states "You know... that Beach Boys song 'Wouldn't It Be Nice' - isn't as corny as I thought - it's actually kinda beautiful- "

FlashForward to...

1975

Susan's pregnant, but at work. Sparkplug is home. And is fairly

stressed from work. And 5-year-old Spike just won't stay calm. Spike, in a determined look on his face, sneers to no one in particular "Spiderman looks to be done for, but

no! He leaps back and..." *thawk!* a precious, beloved dish that belonged to Susan's

grandmother breaks into shards. A crestfallen Spike looks at the damages he inflicted.

Probably triggering Sparkplug's long-dormant sense of corporal punishment. After never

pulling it out - this one merits a spankin'.

Spike's eyes well up with anticipatory dread. He KNOWS how much this dish meant to mom. But that won't stop him from receiving a punishment courtesy of Sparkplug.

Sparkplug stands up sharply. Money is tight with a kid on the way, and Sparkplug has had trouble finding work. Living on Susan's salary has been eating him up, and he's felt out of control as like less of a father without bringing in any bread. Now even his kid's out of control. It's time to put his foot down. With rising anger, Sparkplug yells, "That's IT!"

Sparkplug snatches up his son before he can even think to run away.

Spike jumps as he hears Sparkplug yell in the next room. He's never been spanked

before. He holds his hands up. "No! No!"

Sparkplug sits back down, and forces little Spike over his knee. "How many times have told you about roughhousing in the house? How many?"

Even with Sparkplug's temper, Sparkplug probably has enough self-control to go easy on Spike. After all, he has actual scars when his dad went a bit overzealous with a belt. This...spankin' - it's nothing. But to Spike... Spike looks down in terror. "No! No! Please!"

Sparkplug says, "That's not an answer. You need to learn to mind your mother an' me, and set a good example for your little brother who's coming into the world soon."

Sparkplug's sure they're having another son.

Spike screams, pleading not to be spanked. As a kid, the pain is probably not that great, but the implied pain deals a far more severe blow. Even Spike's screams may slightly eco his father's own at the hands of his far crueler patriarch. "Dad, no! I'm sorry!"

Sparkplug says, "Sorry's not good enough! You're gettin' a spanking. You're spoiled, and need to learn the consequences of not listen' to your mother'n me!"

Spike SCREAMS - his scream fills the small house, compounding Sparkplug's already high stress level. "NOOOOO!"

Sparkplug brings his huge, strong hand down across Spike's bottom. It's barely a smack, but in his anger and frustration Sparkplug hits a little harder than he intended.

Spike cries out in howling pain. "NO!" He sobs, pleading "STOP IT!" maybe even eliciting a flashback or two on Sparkplug's side.But even if it did, Sparkplug can pat himself on the back. He used a cupped hand - not a belt. Something he vowed never to use on his sons. Spike's chest shudders as he forces as much air into his lungs as he can, then unleashes a room-clearing scream that could be heard outside.

Sparkplug says, "Quiet!"

Sparkplug says, "Don't make me give you something to cry about!"

Spike cries out inconsolable "NO!!!! PLEASE!"

Sparkplug brings down his hand two more times, this time lighter but closer together. Spike, hopped up on soda, cartoons, and now, pure fear, can't calm himself down. He

screams as he's hit again...and again. And it ends.

Spike continues to howl and sniff and cry, from the guilt he feels of breaking his mom's favorite dish, to the wrath of his father.

His son's screaming starts to get to him, as he is reminded of his own beatings at the hands of his father. Cheeks burning with sudden shame, Sparkplug orders his son to his room, trying to hide his sudden disgust with himself. The self-justifications begin immediately - he didn't use a belt, he didn't hit him hard - but his self-recriminations are just as strong.

A few hours later, Susan comes home. And once again, Susan does something that totally confounds Sparkplug. She sees Spike in bed, who is almost sick with guilt. And for a solid hour, Sparkplug sees Susan gently stroke her son's sweat-matted hair. She soothingly says "Now...did you mean to break my dish?" Spike sniffles and shakes his head. Susan then smiles warmly and hugs her firstborn. "Then it was an accident. And we shouldn't feel bad about accidents...right." Spike nods, sniffling. She then kisses her son's forehead and whispers "It just teaches us to be more careful...Why don't you get in your PJs and I'll tuck you in in awhile. You've had a rough day..." With that, she goes into the master bedroom with Sparkplug. She gives a curt nod to him. Sparkplug follows his wife into the bedroom, noting the curtness. Uh oh.

Susan...the non-male of the family, is giving the orders?! She looks at Sparkplug and says "From now on...I don't care how you discipline Spike...or our child to be. But as long as I live...I don't want you to raise your hand at either of them. Is that clear?"

Wait...Spike gets off for breaking a prized family possession...and Sparkplug's in trouble?! Sparkplug opens his mouth, shuts it, and opens it again. If the situation was less tense, it might be funny.

Susan folds her hands. Not spanking...in the '70s? the hell?! "You can raise your voice...but under no circumstance will you threaten either Spike or our child to be...is that clear?"

Sparkplug frowns a moment, about to argue spare the rod, spoil the child. However, hearing his father's voice in his head, he surprisingly capituates, seemingly uncharacteristically.

Susan says flatly "If all this costs is a dish, then it will be well worth it."

A few hours later, in bed, it was a rough day for both, she moves closer to Sparkplug and gives her husband a reassuring kiss on the cheek. "You...are an excellent father."

She looks Sparkplug in the eyes "And you are not your father..you know that."

Sparkplug frowns. "I... fine." He scowls, torn between the need to assert himself as the man of the house, and not wanting to repeat the mistakes of his father.

Susan grins slightly, hoping to disarm Sparkplug. "C'mon...I can't go asleep with you mad. You know that. Sparkplug boils silently at the mention of his father. She's right, of course, but that almost makes it worse.

Sparkplug says, "I gotta go for a drive."

Sparkplug turns to leave the bedroom.

Susan sighs and looks over at Sparkplug. "No...please."

Susan says "I didn't marry Jeremiah's son...I married Sparkplug."

Sparkplug pauses in the doorway, glowering at the floor, unable to look at his pregnant wife.

Sparkplug is silent, clenching his large fists, unable to respond.

Susan sighs "This is our first kid...we're bound to make mistakes. I'm probably too permissive. That's why I need you. And ... "

Sparkplug blows his breath out his nose. "Fine. I said Fine," he almost growls.

Susan doesn't want to criticize Sparkplug now - wow...he CAN be a softy sometimes.

GAME: Sparkplug PASSES an INTELLIGENCE roll of Average difficulty.

GAME: Sparkplug PASSES a COURAGE roll of Average difficulty.

GAME: Sparkplug PASSES a LEADERSHIP roll of Average difficulty.

Sparkplug clenches his fists, willing himself to calm down. "You're right.. you're right. We discussed this. "Susan lies in bed, Buster almost ready to come out, so she has trouble getting up and going after Sparkplug. "You and I are going to make hundreds of more mistakes with BOTH kids, well into college!" She laughs slightly "Just chalk this up to one of those mistakes!"

Sparkplug rasps, "Fine."

Susan sighs and says "Go for a ride if it'll clear your head, but I'd really like you here."

Susan adds "Either way...can you at least tell your son goodnight? I think he almost made himself sick - "

Sparkplug turns slightly in the doorway, not yet able to face her.

Susan looks over and says reassuringly "You are such a better father than he was..."

Sparkplug says, "Fine. I'll be right back."

Susan says calmly "Just from now on...let's see if we can raise them WITHOUT raising our hands...ok?"

Spike is in bed, a fresh set of tears soaking his pillow. He feels like absolute hell, for getting out of hand, for breaking great gradma's dish. For the spanking he received.

Sparkplug sighs. "Yes. OK. Just... none of that permissive Dr. Spock tripe. We have to be firm with him in other ways, so he doesn't grow up to be a damned hippy."

 Sparkplug says, "Or Con tape bait. =)"

Susan grins slightly "Wow...you even know the doctor's name! You HAVE been doing your homework!"

Sparkplug says, "We'll leave my problems with Dr. Spock's methods and politics for another night. I'm going to go kiss my son goodnight."

Spike is in bed, in the fetal position. Wow...dad finally unleashed the Hulk-like persona he knew he was capable of. And it wasn't pretty. Sparkplug knocks on his son's door. Huh? Sparkplug never knocks.

Susan smiles warmly at her husband and lays back on the bed, feeling Buster kick.

Spike jumps slightly as he sees the large, shadowy figure loom. He sniffles.

Sparkplug says, "Spike? Can I come in?"

Sparkplug's gruff voice is soft now -- quiet.

Spike nods, sniffling, and choking back a sob. "Yeah..." He looks up at the towering presence. "Dad...I'm really sorry!"

Spike coughs, "I didn't mean to break mom's dish!"

Sparkplug says, "I know, son. Can I come in?"

Sparkplug still waits in the doorway.

Spike nods, gulping.

Spike thinks "time for round two"

"I jus' wanted to be like Spiderman...I didn't mean..." Spike says timidly. "

Sparkplug comes into the room, and gently sits on the bed.

Spike flinches.

Sparkplug says, "I know, son. It's OK. I know you didn't mean it."

Sparkplug looks infinitely sad at the sight of his son flinching away from him.

Sparkplug says, "I'm... sorry I hit you."

Spike nods as some tears flow from his eyes. "I feel really bad for what I did to mom."

Sparkplug sounds lame to himself.

Sparkplug says, "It's OK. She forgives you. I forgive you."

"Why are you sorry? You said I'd get a spanking if I didn't behave."

Sparkplug's voice remains quiet, and a little strange.

Sparkplug says, "True. But I think that we need a new contract. OK? You do need to listen, but I'm not going to spank you again."

Awww...and right now...if Jeremiah could only see this...he would be incensed.

Sparkplug says, "There will be other punishments. But I'm sorry I hit you."

Spike looks up and wipes some tears from his eyes. It sounds like he's getting off scott free. "Ever again?!"

Spike pauses and says "Oh..."

Spike makes a slightly disappointed face.

"Smacking?" Spike says skeptically.

Sparkplug says, "Yes. Ever again. If you roughhouse or run in the house, your mother

and I will punish you. But we'll work out the best way to do that."Spike winces "So...you guys will smack me instead of spank me? That doesn't sound good."

Spike curls up even more, still not 'getting' the full extent of this bargain, which at the time, sounded damn near revolutionary. Sparkplug says, "No. Stand in the corner, sent to your room... we'll figure something out, and let you know."

Spike nods. He lets out a labored sigh. "I wish I could make that dish whole again."

Sparkplug says, "But I won't hit you again. And I know you're sorry." Spike nods. He doesn't seem to be rejoicing. He seems to understand this is a contract.

And for such a huge move from Sparkplug, he knows he'll have to step up his game as a son as well.

"I'll try to be good from now on." Spike says, feeling more at ease.

Sparkplug smiles. "That's a good boy. I know you'll be good. Your little brother will be along soon, and you'll have to help me look after him."

If anything, Sparkplug has just won over a ton of cool points from Ron.

Spike grins as he settles in for a hard-won slumber. He begins to doze off. "How do you

know iss a brother?"Sparkplug grins. "I know." He carefully rubs his son's arm affectionately, and leans down to give Spike a scruffy good-night kiss.

Sparkplug says, "Did you say yer prayers?

Spike nods, barely staying away. "Yeah...I prayed for that dish to be fixed."

Sparkplug chuckles. "That's not likely, but I'll see what I can do.

In the other room, Susan's already dozed off. The night has proven yet another challenge in the field of marriage, but hopefully, both Susan and Sparkplug routinely come back to that night where they first met.

Odd...it's been a helluva night for Sparkplug, but for some unknown reason, both Susan and Spike have managed to diffuse the patriarch's notorious temper, which has been

fueled by his own family angst. Sparkplug says, "I'll get some Loctite Quick Set 404 and see what I can do. Good night, son."

Spike barely mutters a 'goodnight' as he's all but out. Susan is in bed, trying to get comfortable.

Sparkplug looks down at his son for a moment, and then returns gingerly to his bedroom.

Susan frowns, readjusting herself. She however emits her typical infectious smile as

Sparkplug comes in. "You decided to stick around, huh?"

Sparkplug grins sheepishly. "Yeah. Spike's asleep. I told him we'd work out new punishments tomorrow, and stick to them."

Sparkplug strips out of his clothes, and into flannel pajamas.

Susan grins and lays beside Sparkplug. She pauses and thinks, then says something totally alien to what she said when she was having Spike. "Uh...when you get a full-time job again...I...I think I want to stay home and raise both kids...you think that'd be OK? I mean...once our finances get in order?"

Sparkplug looks shocked? His wimmens-libber wife, offering to stay home? Sparkplug grins. He looks a little excited-kid-like at his wife's suggestion. "Are ya sure?"

Susan shrugs. "I mean...just take a few years off...and ONLY when our finances are in order." She shrugs and grins "But...I dunno...what do you think?"

Sparkplug says, "Ah.... that would be fine... if yer OK with it..."

Sparkplug poorly hides his enthusiasm for this idea. He can be the man of the house once more...

Susan smirks "I dunno...I just think...it's the right thing to do." She then leans over and kisses her Sparkplug and then pulls the cover over the two.

Susan begins to fall asleep and mutters "But...I don't want to put the entire financial burden on you...I mean...ONLY if we can affor..." she then dozes off completely. Stupid pregnancy.

Sparkplug grins once again. Maybe this family will be OK after all.