TWINS FROM DIFFERENT MOTHERS
Starsky reached out a fist, then wisely refrained from knocking on the closed bathroom door.
"How long does it take to pee on a stick?" he grumbled.
Hutch replied in a jumpy tone, "Well, there are two of them in there. Two sticks. Two streams of pee."
"Kinky," was Starsky's rejoinder. "Do you think they're doing it in unison? In time to music?"
"Aw Starsk, that's crass. Even for you. Ick."
"Well, it ain't like it's a holy and Biblical thing, is it?"
"I sincerely doubt that women in Biblical times were using pregnancy tests, mushbrain." Hutch pressed his ear to the bathroom door. "Hark - I think I hear the water running."
Three months ago both Sivvy and Becca, feeling broody, had flushed two respective packets of birth control pills down the toilet. This symbolic act, though dramatic, nearly caused a flood in the Starsky main bathroom.
Around six weeks ago Huggy Bear had held a huge blow-out party in his latest bar, to celebrate his own birthday. It was a milestone birthday, he admitted, but he refused to confirm exactly which milestone. "Every man must have his secrets. And no one can know what I want for my birthday bash better than I do. As Frankie would say, 'I'll do it my way.'
That was one hell of a party. Free bar. Lots of snacking food. Loud funky music followed by slow dance sexy Motown classics.
"It was The Temptations that brought me to this place today, outside the bathroom door." Starsky now grinned appreciatively.
"Bill Withers." Hutch's eyes were reminiscently fond.
Just then, the bathroom door opened. Two agitated women, two sticks.
Four sets of eyes, mesmerized.
One stick, and then the other, slowly indicated a baby on the way.
Four simultaneous gasps.
"Twins from different mothers," said Starsky, awestruck.
Four months later.
"Of course, I never would have said it, but…." Starsky popped the top off his third beer.
"No, I never would have said it either, but…" Hutch drained his second beer and reached for another.
"I'm glad we're having sons," Starsky ventured, with a guilty peek at the kitchen in the Starsky apartment.
"We love our daughters witless," pointed out Hutch. "I don't know how we're going to survive being fathers of teenage daughters in a few years."
"Not that two sons each is going to be a walk in the park, "said Starsky with a worry line creasing his forehead. "Oy."
Kenny Starsky was the eldest of the clan. He was 12 years old and quite aware of the basics involved in making babies. He was a little off on some of the nuances, and he didn't want to know the other details. He studied his parents and their best friends, and then decided to ignore the logistics totally. Kenny was a doppelganger of his father, from his head of dark curls, his lapis lazuli eyes, down to his awesome Starsky Strut. Leader of the pack in the schoolyard and boss of the younger kids in the Starsky/Hutchinson brigade.
Olivia (Ollie) Ava and David Conrad (DC) Hutchinson were ten years old. Ollie was a mini ballerina, a total little flirt, with her mother Becca's red hair and stormy eyes. Still could render her daddy helpless with one long-lashed look. She had learned some things on how to use this for strategy, and the rest came naturally.
"We should have named her Delilah," grumbled Hutch on one of the many instances where he was roundly defeated by Ollie's charms.
DC, to Becca's joy, was a carbon copy of Hutch. Down to the silky sun-colored hair, the sky blue eyes, and the lanky torso. Those racehorse legs of his were going to rival Dad's. His personality was also Hutchlike. Serious, book-loving, still totally oblivious to the looks he got from the girls in his class (as well as quite a few in the higher classes). No female teacher could bear to punish him for any infraction, so he got away with a lot.
He also inherited the Hutchinson Finger, which he was just learning how to use. DC didn't always succeed with this. The other day he tried it out on his Uncle Starsk, who literally grabbed the finger and threatened to bite it.
"Look, don't threaten ME with that weapon without knowing how to use it." Starsky took a little nip and returned DC's finger to him. "You gotta have more on that trigger besides being your dad's clone."
Bella (aka LaGoosy) Starsky had been the baby up until now. She was seven years old and a combo of Starsky and Sivvy. Her curls were lighter than her daddy's and her brother's. Starsky had prayed mightily for her to inherit Sivvy's stained glass blue-green eyes, and she did. A little girl version of the infamous Starsky rear end graced her from the back.
And now two more boys. To round off the pack, if Sivvy and Becca had any say in the matter.
Due date one day apart. Starsky claimed this was because the Striped Tomato had made it home from Huggy's party a half hour before Hutch's decrepit car puffed up.
"Gave us a head start," smirked Starsky.
"Did you ever pick up your briefs from the floor? asked Sivvy. "They're black. Kind of fade in with the darkness in that hallway."
"That's too much information," protested Becca. "I think I'm gonna be nauseous."
"Let's get home and dig out the pails," advised Hutch warily .
In the end, Sivvy's water broke only a few hours before Becca's.
They actually couldn't reach Starsky right away. Whatever he was doing, he wasn't picking up his pager or the radio phone in the Striped Tomato. As such, Hutch was the one to transport a huge and annoyed Sivvy to the hospital. Kenny was old enough on his own to watch Bella, with Edith Dobey and a beached whale of a Becca backing things up in case of emergency.
Sivvy took a while this time with the birthing process. The front desk phone in the ward had just rung, bringing Edith Dobey's message to Hutch, who was roaming the hospital corridor and cursing Starsky. Becca's water had just broken and she was starting contractions: they needed him pronto.
At that moment the maternity floor doors burst open and Starsky skidded in. Nearly collided with Hutch as they briefly danced around each other in the hall. "Yours is in there; I gotta get mine!" and Hutch was out the door, his long legs nearly tripping himself.
Not that Starsky and Hutch weren't already legends in that hospital. But the span in which Hutch had arrived with one very pregnant lady, left in a tumble and returned back shortly with a second equally pregnant lady, ended up being hospital lore. "Were YOU there that night? 'I' was" because the hallmark sign of superiority among the nurses.
Becca's labor was quick.
The boys arrived hours apart.
Starsky brought his newborn son out to the hallway where Hutch was seated, waiting to be allowed into Becca's birthing room.
Hutch was manfully trying to be calm.
"Wasn't this supposed to be less stressful with each one?" he groaned. "I've done this before, damn it. Why isn't it easier?"
"Well, that's what they say," mused Starsky. "That's why I hardly believe what anyone ever tells me."
Hutch's right leg was bouncing up and down like a steam drill on asphalt.
"Hey," asked Starsky helpfully. "If I put a quarter in your mouth, will you give me a ride on that horsey knee of yours?"
"Since when do you have a quarter," Hutch shot back.
"By the way, Uncle Huck, meet Gabriel Joseph Starsky."
Hutch reached out automatically, then froze as a nurse came out and said, "You can come in now, Mr. Hutchinson. Your wife is ready to start pushing."
5 hours later.
"I believe we were interrupted," said Hutch as he peered into baby Gabriel Starsky's face.
"Well, it WAS for a good reason," said Starsky. "I'll give ya that. Here, let me take a look at yours."
Hutch proudly proffered his own bundle.
"Joshua Colt Hutchinson, at your service."
"Colt? Aw, you're kiddin' me."
"Hutch grinned. "Well, I was cleaning out my Colt one day, and thinking about how much I love my Colt…."
"Did you ever realize what saints our wives are?" mused Starsky. "Sivvy doesn't mind me calling our daughter 'LaGoosy', and Becca's not objecting to your naming your kid after a gun."
"We realize what saints our wives are on an hourly basis," answered Hutch.
"To Gabriel and Joshua." Starsky reached out an imaginary glass.
"To Becca and Sivvy." Hutch clicked the imaginary glass with one of his own.
"To Me and Thee." Together.
The end