For Victoria, it seemed like life was just one long case of hiccups, punctuated by intervals where she didn't have them. Maybe it wasn't quite that bad, but almost!

It had always been that way, and she knew nothing else. Her childhood had been miserable. All children get hiccups, but she got them lots more than most. Fortunately, when a child is very small, they have no capacity for worry, but unfortunately, they can't be communicated with very well in order to try many of the known cures. So when she was very small her mother was often forced to just let her stop on her own. It was difficult for her mom to do that, because Victoria, if left to herself, would usually go for an hour or two at a time.

She still remembered the time when she was a little older, maybe five, and her mom had tried taking her to a movie theater to see a Disney cartoon. She didn't even know, now, what cartoon it had been -- Snow White, Cinderella, whatever -- but she had started hiccupping so loud, her mom had had to take her out and go home. She remembered how she'd cried and cried as they'd left, which of course had only made her hiccups even worse. Not only were they making her miserable, she couldn't understand, at that age, why her mommy wouldn't let her see the rest of the movie. She never went to a movie theater again.

---

As she grew older, she came to hate shopping trips with her mom, too. Most stores didn't have water fountains, and she feared being out of sight of one! Her problem almost never failed to surface while they were in the middle of the store someplace, and then she just felt like she was this little hiccup machine following her mom around all day. Her mom even resorted to carrying a little water bottle and a bag of sugar cubes for her in her purse, but nothing worked every time. She must have driven her mom crazy, she thought, but her mom had never expressed any irritation. It was only later, when Victoria had her own child, that she knew how badly her mom had really felt for her.

---

School had been rough, too; anything that makes you "different" is bad. The other girls mostly found her annoying; they nicknamed her "hicky Vicky" behind her back, and she had few friends. About the only time most of the other girls wanted to be "friends" with her was when one of them got hiccups; they figured Vicky knew a bunch of cures, if anybody did. Vicky always shared her knowledge; she was a good kid, and glad for whatever social interaction she could get, even if it was only temporary.

She wasn't popular with the teachers, either. She'd get hiccups in class two or three times a day. At the beginning of the year, everybody'd laugh, and the teacher would keep sending her out for water, or down to the nurse if she couldn't stop right away. But it got really old, really fast, and soon the kids just ignored it, and, with most teachers, she would raise her hand for water and the teacher would wave her out the door with no interruption. One teacher, though, had really hated her, and she never forgot one day, when he'd been in a really foul mood, and she'd made her third request for water, he'd snapped, "No! I hope you die of it!" She had been so shocked she'd just burst into tears, which hadn't helped anything at all.

A typical school day was a minefield. Besides her spontaneous explosions while just sitting quietly in class, she had to make it through three meals, plus walking to school and back home twice (since she walked home for lunch), and some days, a gym class. Almost any exertion would set her off, and she never made it through a gym class without her problem surfacing. She'd have to wait 'til the end of class 'til she could get some water, or it wouldn't do any good; even if she did stop 'em, if she just went right back to running around, her problem came right back too.

---

You'd think she would have got used to it, but hiccupping was always the pits! As she grew up, it was so embarrasing! Like the one time she'd walked to the library with her girlfriend, and she'd gotten a majorly loud case before she even got in the front door! She'd walked in, and immediately she could hear her hiccups echoing in the quiet of the entrance hall. A library was just about the worst place for this! She'd been mortified, and she and her girlfriend had gone right to the desk to ask if she could get some water, Vicky holding her hand over her mouth to stifle as much of the noise as she could.

She was always going through life apologizing. As high school ended and college began, she had a summer job, clerking in a store. She hated getting hiccups at the register most of all, 'cause she couldn't just leave and get some water. It was a single register 'way in the back of the store, and she was obliged to stay at her post and just keep hiccupping away. It seemed every other word was "excuse me," and she finally just had to save her excuse-me's for the really big hics, and ignore the smaller ones. She would ration her excuse-me's, one per customer; she figured once you'd excused yourself once to that person, you didn't really need to do it again.

---

As she got older, she often didn't even bother trying to stop her hiccups anymore; there wasn't any point. They never went away completely; she have single teasers every now and then throughout the day. Sometimes even she had to really pay attention to tell where one case ended and the next began. Often she could feel the next hic lurking in her chest, just waiting, and she tried as hard as she could to keep it from coming. She'd start reflexively holding her breath, thinking to herself over and over, "I will not hic, I will not hic!" as though by sheer force of will she could control her body. But sooner or later, she knew it would come, no matter how she tried to avoid it.

She could count on getting a full-blown case maybe four times a day on average, and each one might last an hour or two if she couldn't stop it sooner. One time she calculated that if she hiccupped once every five seconds, for four hours a day, that came out to a million hiccups a year! How, she wondered, did her body stand it?

When some people got hiccups, their hiccups would come at irregular intervals, but Vicky's always came at a steady rate. Once every five seconds was normal, and she could expect that if she was sitting quietly. Those she was used to, and could live with; it wasn't particularly urgent to cure them. But when she was out of breath, or excited, she could hiccup as fast as once a second, or 60 a minute, and not in little bursts, but constantly. Those were what she called "sixties," and she lived in fear of them. They were killers -- the absolute worst! "Sixties" was her own private little shorthand term for them, and her girlfriend knew what she meant when she'd say something like, "I had sixties for 15 minutes this morning and I thought I was gonna die!" Fortunately for her, "sixties" were rare.

---

Sometimes it seemed like everything made poor Victoria hiccup, and as time went by, her mental list of things to do, and not do, grew longer and longer. Most of them were superstitions; since she had no idea what really caused hiccups, she never really knew how to avoid them, so if she was doing something and got hiccups, she didn't do it again. Lots of things were obvious causes, and she'd long avoided them. Laughing was suicide; so was crying, so she kept her affect pretty flat. Exercise, anything that made her breathe fast, was out, and there were times she felt that all she wanted to do was sit quietly, albeit on pins and needles, and enjoy not hiccupping for as long as she could.

Her list of foods to avoid grew longer and longer. Fizzy pop and beer were for other people. Spicy food was always just plain grief. Even if she'd only got hiccups once eating a particular food, she never trusted it again. She tried eating slower and slower, but still, a significant number of meals ended in disaster.

---

With her many self-imposed dietary restrictions, plus her frequent inability to finish a meal, one would think that she'd be skinny, but because her lifestyle was as sedentary as possible, that was not the case. By the time she started college she was 180 pounds, and was somehow managing to put on more every year. By the time she reached 200 in junior year, she knew she had to stop gaining weight, no matter what it took. Her increasing weight began to work against her; as she became heavier, any exertion made her breathe harder, causing her to be even more troubled.

She couldn't avoid a certain amount of exercise; she had to get from her house to the bus stop, and from place to place on campus all day. She knew that she either had to walk very slowly, or suffer the consequences of huffing and puffing. She even went so far as to schedule classes with a free hour between them, never back to back, so she'd have time to get where she needed to be, and settle back down if the worst happened. She'd memorized the location of every water fountain on campus.

---

She knew she was annoying to be around for long periods of time, so she had few friends, and her life was pretty dry and unhappy. Her love life simply didn't exist, and it made her very depressed; who, she wondered, was going to want to go out with a fat girl who got hiccups all the time?

Inevitably, there would be days she was late for school, and would have to run to the bus stop. And inevitably, she knew what the result would be. One day, she'd missed her usual bus and was waiting for the next one. She was breathing fast from having run all the way, and her hiccups were pretty bad, coming every two or three seconds, and she couldn't slow them down.

The bus came, and she got on, covering her mouth to keep the sound down to little "hmphs". But somebody else on the bus had hiccups too. She could tell it was a guy, and they were loud. She was always looking for a fellow sufferer; she figured a guy like that might be her only chance. Oh please, she thought, let him be another college student like her; oh please let him be cute!

The bus was less than half full, and she soon determined who it was. It was a cute guy about her age! He was sitting in the row of seats across the back, but sideways, leaning against the side wall; he might have been trying to recline a little, since lying down is supposed to help.

In front of the last row of seats, the next row went sideways, and she sat in the last of those seats, so she was right next to him. She was a little self-conscious; she knew she'd put on weight, and her fat little thighs were stuffed into her tight jeans. Her blouse was kinda tight, and the fullness of her midriff was very apparent.

He let loose with another loud HIC! She turned to him, smiled, and talking through her own hiccups as best she could, asked, "You got hiccups too?" as though she'd just noticed.

"Ye(hic!)ah," he replied disgustedly, "had 'em all morning and I can't get rid of 'em. I dunno why I'm (hic!) even going in to school now; I can't go to class this way! You look like you got 'em pretty bad (hic!) yourself!"

"Yeah," she replied, still hiccupping rapidly. "I know about fifty cures. When we get to school we can try some, if you like."

"(hic!) Thanks!" he replied. "I'll try anything about now!"

When they got to school, they went to the cafeteria, where they could get water, sugar, and whatever else she needed, and pretty soon she had cured his hiccups. She could not, of course, get anything to work for her, and she continued to hiccup like mad.

"Gee, thanks!" he told her, "Sure wish I could do something for you!"

"Uh, maybe you can," she hiccupped, giving him her number. "Call me? I promise to try to stop hiccupping by then!" She almost giggled, though she knew better.

He was a little surprised, but said, "Sure! I'd love to see you again. You're really nice. You gonna be OK now?"

"Oh sure," she hiccupped and lied, "I'll settle down in a minute. See ya!" And she smiled and blew him a kiss as he walked away.

---

Using every cure she knew, she finally got back to her normal baseline of the occasional teaser, and that night she anxiously waited for his call. He did call her, and they went out that Friday night. They had a lovely meal at a fine restaurant, though she was nervous as a cat all through dinner, never knowing when she was going to explode again. Every swallow was like taking another step through a minefield, but that was her life.

After dinner, he asked if she'd like to go to a concert. She felt a little wave of panic. She'd kinda hoped they'd go someplace noisy, like a club; even though her problem was sure to surface there, at least it would mostly go unnoticed. But a concert? Like, in a theater? She had feared and avoided theaters since she was five, but she guessed -- she hoped -- that for just one night she'd be OK. She only had to survive for two hours.

It turned out her boyfriend was a music major, and this was going to be an organ concert. The theater was one of those old movie palaces, built back in the days of silent pictures, and it still had its original Mighty Wurlitzer pipe organ. She was relieved to see that the theater was enormous; it seated some 3000, and nobody was sitting anywhere near the top of the balcony. Her boyfriend thought she wanted to sit up there so they could cuddle, but she had a completely different agenda.

She was still digesting, which automatically raised her breathing and heart rate a little, and on top of that, she now had to climb all the way to the top of the balcony. Somehow she made it without incident, and was greatly relieved when she finally settled into her seat and could relax. So far, so good; she was in the clear!

She made it through the opening number, the organ playing as the massive console rose out of the orchestra pit. At the conclusion of the first number, the organist paused to welcome the audience and to talk about the program. With no warning whatsoever, she suddenly let out an enormous "HUCK!", and she could hear it echo in the stillness of the theater. Her hand flew to her mouth and she slunk down in her seat, humiliated. Fortunately, she was sitting something like three stories above the stage, and the organist just kept right on talking.

She knew herself, and with an enormous sense of dread, knew this was no teaser; this was the start of something big, something vicious, something massively uncontrollable. Her hiccups started coming only one second apart, and she knew this would be one of her worst cases ever -- the dreaded "sixties"!

Fortunately for her, it was not for nothing the Wurlitzer was called "mighty". The organ had enormous power, and filled the entire theater with sound, so while it was playing, as long as she held her hand to her mouth, her hiccups were inaudible. It was only between numbers, while the organist was talking, that someone within a few rows of her could have heard her steady, unstoppable (hmpf! hmpf! hmpf! hmpf!).

She was ready to cry. Her life was truly wretched. All she'd ever wanted was one date with a cute guy, just one, without making some stupid spectacle of herself! Oh please, why couldn't she have just one?

The old theater was undergoing renovation, and it had no working water fountains, and no concession stand. She checked her purse; oh, no! She had changed purses before going out, and this one didn't have her emergency water bottle or sugar cubes, or any of her other supplies! How could she have been so careless? There was nothing she could do now but sit there and take it. This was bad, very bad, even for her. She was still at her maximum rate of 60 per minute, and they weren't slowing down.

Her boyfriend became increasingly alarmed. He had never seen hiccups so intense for so long, and he wondered how her poor little body could take such a pounding. He could see the growing panic in her eyes, and several times asked her if she wanted to leave, but she always said no. Surely, she thought, they'd stop in just another minute -- well, OK, just another minute. She really liked this guy; not for anyone else would she have stuck it out for so long. She didn't want to spoil the first date she'd had in years; she just had to hold on. "Sixties" had never lasted like this!

She bargained, she begged, she pleaded, with her body, with fate, with anyone or anything that she thought might listen, but her body tormented her unmercifully for two solid hours. Near the end of the concert, she just couldn't take any more. She bolted from the auditorium and sought refuge in the ladies' room. Her ears hurt, and she just had to open her mouth and let her hiccups out. She broke down in tears and abject misery. Crying couldn't even make her hiccups any worse now; they were as bad as they could be!

Most of the major events of her life had been marred by her problem, one way or another; she'd hardly got through a single one without some trouble. But this was the cruelest, most hateful thing her body had ever done to her!

Not long after, she heard the concert end, and her body mockingly quit torturing her for a while. She found her boyfriend and smiled a faint smile, "Well, the good news is, I stopped!"

They did not go out for coffee. Her chest was sore, her stomach hurt, and all she wanted was to be safe at home. Her boyfriend was just as glad not to do anything that might provoke another attack. They drove in near silence. Even her occasional teasers, which were usually cute little hics, were loud and wrenching tonight, and after every one, she would moan, "(ohhh...)".

She made it all the way back to her own front door, without another real case. She and her boyfriend were kissing goodnight, a gentle kiss, not the passionate one she'd dreamed of, but under the circumstances, more than adequate. He suddenly felt her body shake and bounce, again and again, as he held her.

The kiss ended, and he looked at her, a little worried. "You got 'em again?" he asked.

"Yeah (hic!)," she replied dejectedly, "it's nothing new, I get 'em all the (hic!) time. I'll stop eventually; I'm an expert, (hic!) remember?" Of course, she thought, this is my life, isn't it? It wasn't enough to spoil my date; they had to spoil my goodnight kiss too. I couldn't even have that.

She just wanted to go to bed and cry, but she couldn't even have a good cry without subjecting herself to even more misery. What a hateful thing, she thought. If you dare laugh, it comes and bats you right down. If you're not doing anything wrong, it comes and punishes you for nothing 'til it makes you want to cry, then it punishes you even more when you do. And if you're already crying, it comes and makes you even more miserable.

He interrupted her dark thoughts. "Well, OK, if you're sure," he replied. "I could stay 'til you feel better..."

"N(hic!)o," she replied, "not tonight, I got the (hic!) hiccups!"

---

To her complete astonishment, he did ask her out again! The fact was, he thought she was really cute. Some guys would have said she was dumpy; the extra weight had given her breasts a little fullness, but lots more had wound up on her midriff. But her boyfriend found her shape pleasing and cuddly, even sexy in its own way. He really enjoyed being with her; he already knew she was witty and smart. She seemed a little inhibited, but after the meltdown she'd had on their first date, he could understand how she'd got that way.

By the end of their second date, they'd got back to her place without disaster. Her parents were away, and she and her boyfriend had a chance to make out for a while. It had been such a very long time for her, a little went a long way, and he was surprised to find a girl that wouldn't unbutton anything. As he caressed the soft fullness of her body and kissed her voluptuous lips, she let herself get a little overheated, and her problem soon surfaced. But she was enjoying him so much, she just couldn't interrupt; they weren't that bad. After a little bit he asked her, "You want to stop and get some water?" He continued to caress her sweet little body, and she murmured, "No, I can't stop, let's just keep going," as she continued to kiss him. Maybe she'd been ambiguous on purpose, but he was never sure if she'd meant she couldn't stop hiccupping or couldn't stop kissing; he preferred the latter idea.

---

He was coming to understand, and accept, the extent of her problem, and she was amazed and grateful. She didn't realize it, but he was grateful too. He was glad to find someone so special, warm and outgoing; when they'd first met, she'd been willing to help him out of his own difficulty when she was in worse trouble herself.

As time went on, he cared about her more and more; and as he came to know her better, he worried more about her, too. Her problem seemed to worry him more than it did her, since she was so very used to it. Unless she got something really nasty, like a prolonged case of "sixties," or it interfered with an important occasion, she was usually pretty matter-of-fact about the whole thing. For her, most days it was just business as usual.

Vicky was so glad to have found someone who wasn't annoyed by her problem. In time, she realized that he was troubled occasionally as well; not nearly as much as she was, but then, few people were. He didn't get many teasers, though; he either had a full-blown case, or he didn't. She was only too glad to share her bag of tricks with him.

---

He arrived to pick her up for their third date. She greeted him at the door and asked him to come in for a minute. Her third case of the day had just started, and she really wanted to get rid of them before leaving the house.

He followed her into the kitchen, where she got some water. They waited; she held her breath; for no good reason, he held his too, along with her, as though he could help her do it. She seemed OK, but pensive. Finally he asked, "You gonna be OK now?"

"I dunno," she replied, "I still feel hiccuppy."

"You feel -- what?"

"Hiccuppy? Like, you can feel there's another one coming any second? Maybe it's waiting for something to set it off, but you don't know if or when?" He was looking at her quizzically. She smiled, and would have laughed if she'd dared. "I'm sorry, I just have my own little language for these things! It's not like there are clubs you can join with weekly meetings!"

Eventually she quit feeling particularly "hiccuppy," and the evening later found them walking barefoot down the beach in the moonlight, holding hands. They didn't need to say much; they were just enjoying each other's company. Vicky was wearing what for her was a daring outfit; a bare midriff and reasonably short shorts. Tonight was the first time he had seen her curves, and he liked it, though some guys would have liked her better if she'd lost, oh, 70 pounds or so.

They were walking slow so she didn't over-exert, but something, she knew, would break the silence eventually. Soon enough, it did. "(hic!)" she said, and held her breath, mentally counting, as she always did, "(one, two, three, four, five, six...)", then out loud, "Teaser." She added, with a sarcastic smile, "Felt good, though; haven't had a good hiccup for at least ten minutes!"

He held her voluptuous fullness, delighting in the smooth softness of her skin, enjoying the way her delicious midriff overflowed her shorts just the sweetest little bit. They kissed, a long, steamy kiss, and this time they could both enjoy it to their hearts' content.

She actually didn't hiccup very much that evening at all, and as they approached her front door, she remarked, "Gee, it feels so good when I don't have hiccups! I swear, I'll bet I could stand to not hiccup all day!" She was teasing him a little, emphasizing the backwards nature of her life; what was normal for everybody else was highly unusual for her.

---

In time they fell in love. He came to adore everything about her. He came even to like her occasional random teasers, especially when she was trying to be a little seductive and her body would suddenly bounce just the sweetest bit.

---

College graduation soon arrived, and Vicky began going on interviews. She was, of course, nervous, and managed to bring her problem along on every one. She blew three in a row, and the next time she talked to her placement advisor, he was not encouraging.

"I can't help it," she complained, "it just happens all the time!" She felt truly wretched. Here she'd invested four years of her life in getting a college degree, and now she couldn't get anybody to see past her stupid problem for a few minutes!

Her advisor sighed. He looked thoughtful for a few seconds, then said, "I'm going to do you a favor, but I'll depend on you to keep it quiet. As much as your -- uh, problem turns many interviewers off, there are a small number of men who, I think, can be depended upon to feel -- uh, compassion for a bright young woman with your -- uh, difficulty, and might be willing to give you a chance anyway. There's only one I know of who needs someone with your qualifications right now. I'll set up an interview; call me tomorrow and I'll tell you where and when. And, uh -- remember, if you should happen to invoke a sense of -- uh, compassion in this fellow, so much the better for you."

Vicky didn't think she would have any difficulty with that. She could have divided her, uh, problem among five girls, and they all could have generated more than enough, uh, compassion.

So, for the first time in her life, she went forward with confidence! She was dressed in her smart business interview suit, with a skirt short enough to show off just enough thigh when she sat down. She got through breakfast without incident. She made it to the bus stop with no trouble. Downtown, she strode confidently into the office building. She was a good half-hour early, so she waited downstairs 'til the time for her interview got a little closer. What a great day, she thought; she hadn't hiccupped once all day! How long had it been since that had happened? She couldn't remember it ever happening before!

All of a sudden, a terrible thought hit her; she hadn't hiccupped once all day! She wasn't stupid, and she knew what her advisor had been implying, as strongly as he could so she'd get it without him coming right out and saying it. Her, uh, problem was the whole reason he had sent her here in the first place, and if her, uh, problem didn't surface, and she didn't generate, uh, compassion in this man, she was toast! Oh, if only she could go interview with somebody else real quick while she was OK, and save this one for when she wasn't!

But she couldn't, and as the time grew closer, and she was still OK, she realized she had to do something. It was the most heartbreaking, ironic decision of her life, but her body was playing another of its cruel tricks on her, and she knew what she had to do. Almost in tears, she bought a can of cola.

She opened it and stared at it for a full five minutes. Could she, should she, really do this? Maybe her lifelong problem had spontaneously resolved! Maybe she'd never be troubled again! Maybe she could ace the next regular interview she went on! Oh, she'd wished for that day for so very long, the day her problem would leave her in peace at last!

But her practical side knew it was silly to keep that little spark of hope alive in her heart. After living with her problem every day for over twenty years, she couldn't believe it would vanish just like that. If she didn't act now, she'd ruin this interview; then her problem would return soon enough, and she'd never get another chance, here or anywhere!

She stared again at her can of cola. OK, you SOB, she thought, I've hated and feared you all my life. Now I need you. Do your worst!

Still, she was a little cautious. She knew what "the worst" could be, and she didn't want to trigger the dreaded "sixties". She tried a sip. Nothing happened. A little more. Still nothing. A good gulp. Oh, c'mon, she thought, this can't be happening! Finally, in desperation, she downed the rest of the can, fast as she could.

She was, after all, still Vicky, and her body would only be tempted so far. (hic!) Ohhh, that did it, alright! But would there be another? (hic!) Ohhh, yes, it worked! One more? It takes (hic!) three! Ohhh, yes, this was it, she had 'em alright. (hic!) Just the right speed, and just in time for her (hic!) interview!

She arrived upstairs right on time, and introduced herself to the receptionist. "Hi, I'm Vicky Jones, and I've got a (hic!) ten o'clock appointment to see Mr. Smith."

The receptionist was an attractive woman, a little younger than Vicky. "Mr. Smith will be right with you," she smiled, and offered Vicky a seat -- and some water, indicating the water cooler nearby.

"Thanks," replied Vicky, "You'll hafta excuse me. These (hic!) hiccups just started." She pretended to drink some water.

"Oh, I hate those things!" the receptionist replied. "I get 'em every day after lunch for some reason. Y'know, this is my first real job, and I've only been here a short while, but it seems really weird; there are five women in this office, including me, all about my age, and I've never seen so many women in one place getting hiccups so often! And now you come in! There must be something in the air!"

"Ye(hic!)ah," replied Vicky, "that must be it."

"Well, don't panic if you can't stop," the receptionist told her. "I got 'em during my interview, and Mr. Smith hired me anyway. Maybe you'll be lucky too!"

Vicky was soon ushered in to see Mr. Smith. She really hoped she'd done the right thing, but from what the receptionist had said, she thought so. She shook hands with Mr. Smith, and, smiling, apologized, "I'm really sorry, I just got the (hic!) hiccups on the way up, and I can't (hic!) stop. I hope you don't (hic!) mind!" Did his eyes really light up a bit? She daringly added, "This happens all the (hic!) time!"

It was a good interview, and it really did seem that her qualifications were just what the company needed. She left, having accepted a job with his company. That was very rare; apparently her advisor had been right on the money.

It seemed that her body was furious at having been tricked, and took revenge on her for the rest of the day; absolutely nothing helped her stop, even for a minute. Maybe her body needed to show her who was really in charge. She almost didn't care; she had won at least one round, she thought, a very important one. She knew her body could never resist tormenting her, and whatever it did, she had found a place where it could work in her favor.

Still, she couldn't escape the thought that, no matter how small the chance had really been, her deliverance may have been at hand, and she had thrown it away.

---

All the women in the office really were smart, qualified, and good workers, and Vicky soon meshed well into the office routine. It wasn't long, however, before she became aware of a developing personality conflict. Maybe the receptionist wasn't aware of Mr. Smith's secret, but the other four women were. Vicky's body was still very capable of messing with her, even with a boss in whom her problem generated, uh, compassion. All the women in the office shared her problem, but her problem was as bad as any four of theirs together.

After a few days, the oldest, the office manager, cornered Vicky alone in the ladies' room. "Look," she told her, as cryptically as possible, "we all know what Smith likes, and we all have the same problem, but nobody has as much trouble as you. We can't believe you're not doing this on purpose, and you'd better stop!"

Vicky just wished she could. Now even people who shared her problem didn't like her!

---

Love continued to grow between Vicky and her boyfriend, and wedding bells soon chimed. She had one last-minute bout just before walking down the aisle, but she had brought her entire arsenal with her, and she was able to bat them back down again. Mercifully, she made it through the rest of life's happiest event hiccup-free.

They hadn't been intimate before being married, and they soon found their mutual problem frequently surfaced during sex. Usually they would just have to laugh and keep going, because if they stopped having sex every time one of them (usually Vicky) started to hiccup, they'd never get anywhere.

Sometimes, after she'd drifted off to sleep, exhausted again, he'd lie awake a while, just holding her sweet, soft little body as she snuggled close to him. Once in a while he'd feel her shake as she hiccupped in her sleep, but she rarely woke up. Oh, this poor, sweet, wonderful little woman he'd married. He wished so he could help her, but if her body was beyond her control, it was surely beyond his. Sometimes he'd see a smile on her face as she lay sleeping, and he wondered if she was dreaming of a world where she was free of her problem at last.

---

It wasn't long before she was pregnant. She was several months along when she began to notice a rhythmic shaking to her pregnant stomach. Her doctor listened and told her, "Your baby has the hiccups!"

"Well," she thought ruefully, "with parents like us, what could the poor kid expect?"

Now she knew what her mom had gone through with her. Her baby was always getting hiccups, and she felt so sorry for him. He wasn't even breathing air yet, couldn't even cry! Oh, if only she could cure him! But she couldn't, and she had enough trouble herself. It was probably just her imagination, but sometimes she wondered if she and the baby didn't give each other hiccups, back and forth all day. It seemed like she would get hiccups herself, shake the baby, then the baby would become agitated, get hiccups, and start shaking her, and she'd get 'em again. It almost seemed as though they both gave as good as they got, though of course neither wanted to at all.

She did so hope her baby hadn't inherited her and her husband's problem. Lots of kids hiccup frequently, and maybe he would grow out of it. But she had to be realistic. If her baby was going to be anything like her, she thought, he was going to have a rough road ahead. Unlike her own childhood, when she'd often felt so all alone with her problem, at least the three of them would always have each other for comfort and support.

She knew it would happen someday, and eventually it did: She got her third case of the day, and soon her baby had them too. It was just about time for her husband to come home, and before either she or her baby could settle back down, he walked in, and she saw he had one of his occasional cases as well! He held her as she pressed her pregnant stomach into him, and they each could feel the rhythmic pulsing of the other two.

She was the mommy, and she'd get out her bag of tricks and get to work in just a minute, but right now, she just enjoyed being held and comforted by this man who had come to mean so much to her. Maybe some others wouldn't have thought so, but to her, it was a beautiful moment, she, her man, and her baby all sharing their common problem in an image of love and acceptance. She would've laughed if it wouldn't make it worse, but a wicked little thought passed through her mind: The family that hics together -- sticks together!