"They don't bounce," she said. Loud defroster blower making only a small, clear arch near the dashboard. She reached over the wheel and wiped at a space. She knew they should've left earlier before it started to snow.

"Did you hear what my cousin said about her kids?" Danny, her husband.

"Those brats. They're sooo spoiled. We couldn't have a family dinner in peace."

"It's always like that, has been for years."

"The recitation of grace--a Shakespearean performance."

"A hundred dollars an hour, that's what my cousin said."

"Screaming and arguing. I'm not use to that," she said. Looked over at Danny writing in his notepad. Eyed the baby in the rearview, sleeping in the car-seat. First holidays at her in-laws since they moved back East. "And the drinking."

"That's eight hundred dollars a day."

"Just eight, why not make them work doubles. Please, Danny. You're not serious. I know you've had too much brandy."

"It's a catalyst, I told you. And that's not the issue. Not today. Not on a holiday. Give me some reprieve."

"I ought to turn the hazard-flashers on. Do you think I should?"

"If the baby works two days a week--I won't allow anymore--that will replace the salary I used to get."

"They should have salt trucks out."

"You know, unemployment will run out right after the first of the year."

"I wanted to make it home before the baby wakes. He doesn't like the car. He fidgets."

"This could be a whole new enterprise. I could represent our own Puker, and other babies."

"I asked you not to call him that. You had your parents calling him that.

He's not a Puker. His name is Nathan. Call him Nathan. Puker sounds like a curse word."

"Puker," Danny turned. The baby in a stone sleep sucked on the pacifier. "He likes Puker, and he likes it when I throw him up in the air." Danny looked at the windshield. "Can you see?"

She wiped at the fog.

"Some kids don't like that. The height, the sudden drop. But Puker does. Have you seen him? He won't let me stop."

"All babies like repetition. I told you that's dangerous."

"Alright, it's dangerous. That's why they pay big money. But we have experience, Puker and I."

"Just keep sending out resumes. You do have a degree and credentials." She looked over at Danny. His hair had gotten longer. He looked swollen from all the beer lately. "We just have to cut down on buying presents this year. Otherwise, we'll manage fine."

"I got the number to call. It's a movie."

"Shit! That was the exit sign. I didn't see it." She slammed both her hands on the wheel.

"Wow, it's coming down heavy. It's a fucking blizzard."

"Now we have to go another three miles. And I asked you not to curse in front of Nathan."

"You just did. And he's sleeping anyway."

"So much arguing. Why do your parents argue so much?"

"Raising your voice isn't an argument."

"I don't believe your cousin anyway, that the kids make that much money." She hit the defroster control with her fist, wiped the fog, face leaning over the wheel. "Her daughters do modeling. They have binders and binders of portfolio pictures. If I had to smile through another one... I was getting ill."

"That was the pumpkin pie. I told you to avoid anything baked by Aunt Alice. The old girl can't tell salt from sugar anymore."

"Portfolio pictures cost money. You'll be spending money in the hopes to make money, like all those other things you've been trying."

"Don't need it for stunt work."

"Stunt...work..."

"Movies. Either you're a principle, an extra or a stunt. It's just categories. Classification."

"That's an accident. Look at that. That just happened."

"We should stop."

"I can't get over."

They heard more metal crashing.

"They're piling up. Man, it's bad out. Are you sure you can see?"

"We're ahead of it. Thank God."

Puker spit out his pacifier and blinked his eyes. He let out a wail.

"Now he's up. I can't drive when he's crying."

"That isn't a cry; that's a scream out of horror flick. It's like a Bowie knife in your ear."

"Find his Nuk. Can you see it? Can you find it?"

"Hey, Puker, look at the snow. Check out the snow." Danny turned and looked over the side searching.

She wiped at the fog. Hit the defroster control. "I forgot how bad winters got. We should buy snow tires."

"We need a new car, that's what we need."

The baby cried.

"Hey Puker." Danny made a motion like he did when he threw the baby up, up and down, up and down. "Bounce, bounce," Danny said.

Puker switched off the scream and let out a big smile, wiggled his hands to get free of the straps.

She looked in the rear-view. "He does like it."

"Hundred dollars an hour, right Puker."

"Here's the exit." She moved the signal stick up and down. "The blinkers aren't working. The hazard lights went off."

"Yes you do, Puker my man, be in the movies, don't you? Bounce, bounce."

"Your cousin gave you a number?"

"Casting call eight a.m. Right Puker. Yeah, that's snow. He's never seen snow. It's good to jump in. We'll be home in ten. I'll throw you up in it. Right Puker, my little stunt baby."

She eyed the rear-view, palmed at the fog.

"I don't know why your family argues so much. I'm not used to that."

"Stunt baby, stunt baby, yes you little stunt baby."

Their car inched through the blizzard toward home. Always a place of hope and promise.

"Stunt baby," she said. "I'm sure they make it safe."

Copyright © Michael Largo 2000 All Rights Reserved

Michael Largo's work has appeared in the following e-zines and literary websites: Eclectica, Melic Review, Conspire, 2RiverView, Pif Magazine, Exodus, Conflicting Spectrums, Poet's Cut, Bonfire, Duct-Tape Press, Morpo Review, Burn, Pulp Fiction, Mocha Memoirs, Yellow Dog Magazine, Isi Bongo, Big Bridge , Nuketown, Bloody Muse, Forbidden Panda, Trout Magazine, New Earth Review, Manx Fiction, Solas, Wings, StickyKeys, Pauper, Shank, Writer's Choice, Harpweaver, Ashtray Angels, Plaintext, Creativity Magazine, Unlikely Stories, Indite Circle, Pocol Press. This is his second piece for *spark-online.