I was four when I discovered the wig.

I discovered it while searching for a bag of peppermints that my Mom kept hidden in her room.

The wig was long and curly.

And it fit surprisingly well on my head.

**

Although my parents were very religious, they were not the sort to condemn Halloween. Which I guess accounts for the wig in my mom's closet. She had no use for it other than Halloween, I think.

My father disposed of nuclear weapons in his spare time.

My father's name was Robert Tellerman. He decided that I needed an education from the finest document ever produced, which was of course the Bible. And I mean the Bible. While other kids were being held back intellectually by children's Bibles, I was being exposed to the fullblown text of the King James Version.

It was all there.

Foreskins of slaughtered enemies.

Egyptians besieged by plagues.

Apocalypses.

Betrayals by women named Delilah.

And more.

I mean, jeez.

**

Oh yes, and Jesus was mentioned a couple times as well. A very bloody Jesus.

**

In between Bible readings, breakfast, John being beheaded, lunch, tales of righteous saints (and their assorted tortures), dinner, and a nighttime description of Hell were enthusiastic hair cuts.

My hair was a consistent centimeter in length.

Sometimes I'd tell people that my hair was a centipede in length. And they didn't know what I was talking about.

**

My father would condemn hippies when cutting my hair.

"You're never gonna get long hair like one of those dirty hippies," he'd say.

And I'd say:

"OK."

And he'd say:

"No sir."

And it was settled.

**

I wasn't exactly sure what hippies were.

I thought they were strange beasts that ran about in forests, maiming people.

Years later, I would peruse the library for information on these strange creatures. It would turn out that they were just regular people; except they did drugs and dressed funnily because of it; either that or they were color blind.

And they stuck flowers in guns.

What a wacky lot!

You can imagine what a novelty hippies were, with centipede hair and all.

**

According to my father:

"The problem with nuclear weapons was that they were a dime a dozen. Any yahoo could go about picking one up!"

Snipsnipsnipsnipsnip.

According to my father:

"The Ha bombs [the H-bomb and A-bomb] were really great things when put in the hands of the righteous. Those who were doing God's will."

Snipsnipsnipittysnip.

**

We lived in seclusion.

My father was scared of sin. He didn't want anything to do with city life and its horrible influences.

The city people were scared of my father. They didn't want anything to do with him and his attempts at convincing people to convert.

Converting people was a very rational thing to my father. Sin was a residue that would rub off from surrounding degenerates. And of course, sin residue would lead to an afterlife in Hell. Unless sudden salvation entered the picture, in which case there wouldn't be any chance of that happening.

Yes, conversion was a very rational thing to my father.

Snipsnip.

And we celebrated Halloween?

**

I replaced the wig where I found it. And I found the bag of peppermints with their red and white spiral designs. And they were good peppermints. And I put those away too.

And I returned to the wig often. It made me feel substantial. I was very small back then. I imagined that I had super strength. I'd go about, punching the air.

Once I punched the wall and burst into tears.

That's how my father found me; crying, with a wig firmly secured on my cranium, cellophane scattered around the floor.

Snip.

**

When my father contracted cancer, and when he lost all his hair in chemotherapy, the doctor suggested a wig for psychological compensation.

My father said:

"No wigs!"

**

My father seemed obsessed with Hell, and I'm guessing that this is why he incinerated the wig in our barbecue grill. He didn't want me to be like the dirty, maiming hippies and Samson wasn't a hippie but rather a proud warrior and so on.

The smell made me nauseous.

There were pops and hisses. And I continued to have centipede hair.

**

And when I met my wife, Ulna, I had inchworm hair, which was more comforting, I thought. No where near the comfort of the wig. We became Eddie and Ulna Tellerman.

We had some children. And they got smart and so on.

I ran a donut shop in the town of Bucan. The western part, to be exact.

Off the Tellermans went in their humming and buzzing electric car.

- The funeral was lovely, Edward.
- It was acceptable.
- I'm certain your father would've approved. Particularly of your eulogy.
-
- Children, wasn't your father's eulogy nice?
- Brilliant dad.
- Way to go.
- See dear? They thought it was nice.
- They're only children.
- A real humdinger.
- A loogie in the eye of mediocrity. [Edward: Sarcastic children]
- Edward Edward(!), throw that cigarette out, now!
- I need this right now. Here, we'll trade. I'll orient my air conditioning vents towards you.
- Ontheedgeofmyseat! A nailbiter.
- Damn well moved to the point of tears. Nay, dare I say, absolute bawling.
- Honestly, Edward. You've never smoked. And the vents are blowing smoke on me.
- I'm turning on the radio.
- This is the radio.
- I hope my eulogy's half as entertaining.
- News network.
- You should travel around and crash funerals. You'd be a welcome abomination.
- [Radio: The president will mark the 25th anniversary]
- And what's this about hanging around in the sun all day? Without sunblock.
- Vitamin D.
- Yeah mom, vitamin D.
- Shut up, children.
- [ of nuclear disarmament without speeches. Instead, he'll]
- Tumors. A tumor just like your father.
- [ mark the event without remembrance.]
- ... [ - (A presidential voice) "Such weapons, even in their nonexistence "]
- [ - (A presidential voice, continued) "must be forgotten entirely."]
- The kids are turning blue. [ - (Same president) "I will be at home."]
- Kids, quit holding your breath. [ - (a pause, presidential-like) " "]
- We're not goats! [ - (With goodnatured enthusiasm, the president still) "eating costefficient snack foods."]
- Ba-a-a-aaa-h
- Why did we make our children smart? They only use it to annoy us.
- Not ba-a-a-aaa-h. More like, eh-ee-e-eheheheh-eh. [ - (reaching a conclusion) "I suggest potato crisps, and for those who must mind your salt intakes "]
- Need to open the shop back up. Lost three days already.
- ["Plain popcorn."]
- Don't hold your breath.
- Baa-aa-h. Eyehehehehehyeh.
- Eyebah-eh-bah-eh.

Granted; Ed(die) (Edward) Tellerman didn't want to die.

In the hospital, watching the death of his father, Eddie knew he wouldn't gosofar as to die when he acquired his cancerous tumor whether it was in his lungs or his throat, or mouth, or stomach or mayhaps his epidermal tissue.

With the chemo would arrive nausea, fragility, and bucketsovomit alongside the desired outcome of eventual and violent hairloss coupled with bleeding roots and scalps if properly provoked.

Nonetheless:

Eddie smoked like a hyperactive bastard of a furnace.

Every phone call Eddie received or sent was done on a mobile phone placed directly near his brain.

Eddie Tellerman sat next to windows brightly lit by piercing sunbeams without the protection of sunblock.

In periods of a tilted axis, Eddie Tellerman partook in the suntanning booths in town.

Obsessively and liberally, Eddie Tellerman applied antiperspirant rub-on deodorant (the main ingredient being a chemical derivative of aluminum (aluminumzirconiumtrichlorohydrexgly) suspected of promoting two or more tumors on sampled occasions).

Once:

An interview with Enola and Albert Tellerman (a day after their eighth birthday and a year or so before their grandfather's death) went like this:

Q: How does it feel, a year later, to have graduated from Harvard University at such a young age?

Enola: It's nice enough I suppose.

Albert: Yes, nice.

Enola: Nice.

Albert: Very nice.

Q: Could you please elaborate on this niceness you speak of?

Enola: Well, Mr. Truman

Q: Call me Franklin.

Albert: Hairy for a Franklin.

Enola: True.

Albert: Oh man.

(Boisterous laughter)

Q: Please, back to the question.

Albert: This "niceness," as you call it.

Q: You said it.

Enola: You implied it under false pretenses.

Q: What?

Albert: Imagine a perpetual running nose.

Enola: Dripping oozing.

Albert: Bubbling enthusiastically and embarrassingly.

Enola: The bubbles bursting mucous outwards onto passersby.

Albert: And the constant noseblowing.

(Tissues emerge, simultaneously, from pockets)

Enola: Ssshnortuck.

Albert: Sshronhwonk. Snurk!

Q: And this demonstrates?

Enola: Life as a person constantly running knows it.

Albert: Constantly.

Q: Having graduated from Harvard University at age seven's similar to a running nose?

Enola: Absolutely not. Indeed, but rather -

Albert: An antihistamine.

Enola: Diphenahydramine.

Albert: A big drowsy sleep inducing sonofagunned pill.

Enola: We can do whateverwe'd like.

Albert: We're allergy free for a decade at least.

Enola: A veritable nasal mucous desert.

Q: The mucous being?

Albert: Breathstifling aspects of a grueling life. Normal school attendance.

Enola: Having homework every night.

Albert: And morning.

Enola: And lunchtime.

Albert: We've ten years to play.

Enola: Tag.

Albert: You're it.

Enola: Tag. You're it.

Q: Am I to understand that you will use your headstart to - how shall I say - goof off?

Albert: Hence the whoopee cushion on your chair.

Enola: Whoopee.

Albert: Yippee.

Q: Is this the reason, Enola, that you declined the marriage proposal of Adolphus Andorap?

Enola: Adolphus, I'm afraid, was somewhat immature and wanted to enter into research studies together as a married couple.

Q: Studies on what?

Enola: The development and synthesis of an object commonly available, such as...

Q: Dirt?

Enola: Yes, let's say dirt. Adolphus was set on synthesizing and developing dirt into dangerous combustible elements.

Q: Oh goodness.

Enola: I know. Such experiments would however prove useful in creating new forms of renewable energy.

Albert: A perpetual motion of cars filled with garden soil.

Q: Was that the only reason you decided not to enter a relationship with him, then?

Enola: A major reason for my declination of the proposal was the immense gap between our respective ages. Adolphus is twenty four years my senior.

Q: He did say he'd wait for you to reach legal marrying age.

Enola: I still doubt he'd be ready by then.

Q: I see and how do your parents feel about this matter? Do they feel that you're wasting your life by spending the rest of your childhood playing games and rejecting the marriage proposals of forlorn and heartbroken Nobel Prize winning physicists?

Albert: Our father respects our decision. I think he wishes to join us sometimes.

Enola: Like on the swings.

Albert: Yes, definitely. Somedays I think he really wishes to swing.

Q: Your father is the owner of Tellerman Donuts, if I'm not mistaken?

Albert: That is correct.

Enola: Owner

Albert: Creator.

Enola: Baker.

Albert: Salesman.

Q: His business is based in the town of Bucan, is that correct?

Enola: Hyeah.

Albert: Quaint town, it is.

Q: Also, the site of most of the nuclear disarmament work that began several decades ago.

Enola: Those were the days.

Albert: We weren't alive back then.

Enola: Just imagine though. Being alive in a time where something was actually accomplished. Life's hard for us academics, these days.

Albert: Our grandpa worked on the project.

Q: How is he doing?

Enola: He's dying.

Q: Don't you wish to do something with your lives besides playing games all the time?

Albert: Oh yeah, definitely.

Enola: When the time's right.

Albert: Time's so short.

Q: Spoken like true adults.

Enola: Go to Hell.

Albert: Your moustache is falling off.

Q: What?

Enola: The hair above your lip

Albert: Dangling about.

Q: Oh dear.

Enola: Adolphus!

Q: I can explain.

Enola: How can you explain your disguising yourself as a journalist?

Albert: True adults. Pah! We don't paste on facial hair.

Q: I mean I can explain why you might think that I, a humble journalist, might resemble a man who not only proposed to you but was quite a genius, mind you...

Enola: What a buncha fickin' shut.

Q: whose name was Adolphus, and how this moustache... I mean, I've this condition.

Albert: I thought this was fake. Look at how curly the ends are.

Enola: A condition?!

Q: Where my hair falls out in clumps. You've no idea how long it took for that patch.

Albert: There's something written on here.

Enola: Adolphus, get out of here now.

Albert: "Made in Greece." Greece hair!

Eddie and Ulna Tellerman met in a bowling alley.

Ulna bowled strikes, and Eddie consistently sent his ball into his lane's gutter, as well as the gutters of several other lanes. The extravagant straying of Eddie's ball contributed to their meeting, as they were both on the far opposite sides of the hall.

The ball hopped one lane:

"Whatza?"

And another:

"Lordy."

Then another:

"Deary."

And a series of others:

"Oopsie."

"Cripes."

"What the augh?"

Until it fatefully and nearly fatally reached the lane of Ulna Rose, who bowled another strike despite the concave dimple left in the floor of her lane.

"Oh!" she said in admonishment (towards Eddie's bowling ball) and in celebration (for the strike).

Ulna Rose was a delightful woman with long, curly, brown hair, a somewhat plain appearance, and prodigious bowling skills. Using all of these assets (see Eddie Tellerman's first person descriptions of wig experiences), Ulna would've been able to hustle $60 dollars out of Eddie Tellerman's dwindling pocketbook had they not been thrown out for the damages caused by errant balls.

Both college students, Eddie and Ulna immediately fell for each other because (and this is not being facetious in any way) they had nothing better to do; until they met, they had existed alone, stewing in their own academia while festering their own thoughts and ideas. Except for the occasional trip to a bowling alley, Eddie and Ulna were constantly studying and burying themselves in the knowledge of yesteryear and this common bond created a lasting relationship.

"My roommate moved out."

"Mmhmm."

"He literally went mad. He couldn't stand the silence."

Eddie's roommate had punched a wall and bled all over his bed.

"He'd try and strike up a conversation, and I'd barely acknowledge him. After a while, there was nothing but silence punctuated with the sounds of my turning a page."

Ulna didn't have a roommate, and lived by herself in a singles room in college housing. The building which contained her room had a coffeeshop in the lobby, and this is where they saw a flier for a protest. The protest was against a company which mistreated foreign sweatshop workers, and degraded the habitats of ancient tortoises, who had seen better times indeed.

Tired of being silent, the pair headed off to the protest, and shouted slogans. Eddie dressed up in a tortoise outfit, and lent Ulna his fins. They carried signs, and cheered on speeches. They were very enthusiastic.

This sudden rush of shouting and energy expending consumed Eddie and Ulna. They soon became involved with any protest march they could find, and when they ran out of marches, they began finding their own reasons to protest. Many injustices were addressed by this pair, and a change became apparent in their persons.

They ripped their jeans, on purpose.

Ulna would've defiantly cut her hair, if it wouldn't have been for Eddie's preferences (talk about a protest).

They listened to punk rock music, and believed a lot of it.

They shouted slogans, and vandalized bathroom stalls with anarchy As.

And Thanksgiving arrived.

Ulna's parents were both consumed in the destruction of an ocean liner years earlier ("My mom's dead too!" Eddie had said, with too much eagerness to connect, perhaps). So it was agreed, with much uneasiness on the part of Eddie, that they would spend their holiday at the Tellerman's home.

Robert Tellerman eyed the pair with suspicion, despite their cleaned up dress. Ulna met the elder Tellerman's cold stare, and understood that she was an outsider.

"This is a really nice and secluded place you've got," she said.

"It's that way for a purpose," Robert Tellerman responded as he expertly sliced into a turkey.

The situation was grueling, as Eddie and Ulna had both converted to vegetarianism. The only way to deal with this situation was to simply avoid the turkey and ingest everything else.

"Maybe if we eat a bunch of mashed potatoes and stuff, we can say that we're stuffed and that we forgot all about the turkey," Ulna suggested.

And so Eddie and Ulna ate heaping helpings of mashed potatoes, and cranberries, and corn, and olives, and even small pieces of parsley.

So: Robert Tellerman flew into a rage, as he considered his turkey cooking to be borderline exquisite (dreamlike, as he had once described it).

"Just what's going on here?" he said, with a pound on the table (for emphasis).

The truth about their new dietary habits came out, and Robert Tellerman expressed his disgust for his son, who was obviously riddled with sin. He berated his newfound social conscience, and said that turkeys were made to be "beheaded, plucked, cooked, and digested" or else "why would they be so goddamn ugly and have such small heads " and suchlike.

Eddie responded in kind, insulting his father's outdated and programmed ways of thinking. He declared his position as a neoanarchoatheist who would destroy modern conventions that continued to be outdated and oppressed the downtrodden and spiritually dead masses.

"Spiritually dead?!" Robert Tellerman guffawed as Eddie and Ulna stormed out.

The drive back to school was filled with merriment and the ingestion of tofu burgers with portabella mushrooms. Jokes and delighted celebratory banter were traded at having escaped the house.

"And with this, the first strike against the tyrannical fascist Tellerman regime began."

And a silence ensued. The long road stretched out, and everything seemed far away. Ulna Rose said:

"I'm pregnant."

Eddie Tellerman said:

"Hahaha"

as he thought it was a joke.

But it wasn't, and Ulna Rose repeated her statement:

"I'm pregnant."

And Eddie Tellerman said:

" "

Despite the satisfaction and good feelings generated by being a neoanarchoatheist, actual payment, in the money sense, did not really happen a whole lot.

"I suppose you are wanting to keep the child?"

"Yes. I mean I'm all for choosing, I mean, prochoice and all "

"One of us is going to have to quit school "

"We'll both have to quit school"

The two were married, despite their apprehensions at honoring such an outdated establishment as marriage.

Eddie worked long hours at a movie theatre, later working at a donut shop owned by a Mr. Loman. Mr. Loman enjoyed Eddie's spirit and dedication to creating a base for his family, which was to add an addition in the coming months.

"Why don't you stay in the loft above the shop?" Mr. Loman offered.

Eddie and Ulna sparsely decorated their new apartment, which was small and had a cordoned off section for the arrival of the new baby. Mr. Loman's wife, Helga, often visited and helped Ulna with the preparation for their first child. Everything was going brilliant, until one day when Mr. Loman decided to have a stroke and pass away.

Helga Loman mourned and then informed, with kindness, how Mr. Loman had willed the donut shop to the Tellermans. The couple was ecstatic, as such an asset would prove unbelievably useful in supporting their new arrival.

The name of the donut shop became, "Tellerman Donuts" and Eddie began a massive advertising campaign around Western Bucan to get the word out about his shop. Business jumped a considerable amount, and one day the pangs of labor occurred for Ulna Tellerman.

Eddie Tellerman drove to the hospital in jubilation and panic. His skills were unparalleled in avoiding traffic hazards, having imagined this experience many times in his mind. Simultaneously driving, he assisted Ulna with her breathing patterns, while veering around corners and the like. Their arrival at the hospital prompted some weak clapping from Ulna who was wheeled off to the maternity ward.

And:

A thermonuclear device was a somewhat redundant contraption in that one required several minor atomic explosions to create the conditions necessary for a fusion chain reaction.

Granted; this could create an explosion that would knock anyone's socks off.

**

The logo of Tellerman Donuts was an enormous donut encircling a T.

Written underneath the logo was the shop's slogan:

We'll knock your socks off.

**

Driving around, late at night (scanning through the radio stations, a Christian radio DeeJay said, "God has an unchangeable plan for everyone, and don't feel forced into marriage"), smoking, Edward Tellerman encountered the What You Need Wall, a government commissioned barrier or piece of modern art.

The wall was gray and ran for five miles North to South, down the middle of Bucan.

Neon lights in the shape of words were affixed to the wall and resembled graffiti.

**

The What You Need Wall was erected in celebration of the town's history.

In the 50 years previous to the Wall's construction, the last of the country's nuclear arsenal had been dismantled, destroyed, and buried within big holes within cavernous mountains.

The town's art council decided a monument of sorts was needed to mark the event's golden anniversary.

And the monument that the council decided the town needed was a wall that told people what they needed in a post-nuclear weapon society.

**

Here are some examples of words on the wall:

A Bed

Foreign Currency

Cheap Sex

Self Respect

An Aneurysm

A Wife

Payphone Change

A Life

An Expert In the Field of Paleontology

And (This is an example, not a conjunction)

And (This is a conjunction, not an example)

Pocket Lint

**

People could walk up to the wall and interact with nearby machines that recorded such information as weight, height, electromagnetic output, propensity for waxed ears, and the sweat accumulated on one's palms after being asked suggestive questions.

Once this information was compiled, a process of analyzing took place in which certain words on the wall were chosen.

Since it wasn't necessarily possible for one person to see all the words that lit up after use of the wall, a printout was provided showing what he or she needed.

**

Once: Edward Tellerman used the wall, late at night, and the only non-verbal symbol on the wall lit up.

The symbol was a giant bluish crack that ran down the middle of the wall.

Speculation amongst townspeople was that whoever lit up this symbol was an asscrack or hole, in a metaphorical sense.

**

Gormachev Donuts sat on the other side of the What You Need Wall over in East Bucan.

Everyone in East Bucan enjoyed the donuts, coffee, and other pastry goods provided by Gormachev Donuts. People would line up, 35 at a time, to patronize the shops scattered throughout town (there being several to meet demand).

**

When young men courted the young women of East Bucan, it was an unspoken custom to bring Gormachev Donuts to the girl's parents.

"Gormachev Donuts? Oh, come on in m'boy."

**

At birthday parties, young children requested boxes of Gormachev donuts instead of cake and ice cream.

"Make a wish, dear."

"Ffffffhew"

"What did you wish for?'

"Don't say it, it won't come true."

"I wished for more donuts from Gormachev Donuts."

"They're dreams come true."

"Ha, our sons they oughtta be in pictures."

**

During the beginning of the institution called marriage, in fact, before the official beginning of said institution, a proposal took place. Gormachev Donuts had a prominent role here as well.

"You've been awfully quiet."

" "

"And you're very sweaty."

"it's okay, I'm alright."

"I think you have a fever."

"It's alright."

"I could cook eggs! Eggs and steak on your head."

"No you see."

"Good evening. Would you care to hear the specials tonight?"

"Waiter, do you have any aspirin? Doesn't that work for fevers?"

"We have a duck l'orange. I hear it does wonders for fevers."

"Beatrice?"

"Yes Hernando?"

"Will you marry me?"

"Oh Hernie - a chocolate glazed "

"Wowee! Lookitthesizeothatthing!"

"Lemme stick it on your finger."

"Yes Hernando, I will marry you."

*Munch**Kiss*Munch*

**

Although rare, exiles from East Bucan occasionally entered West Bucan due to their unpopular views on donuts.

It was a preference thing. Some people simply did not enjoy Gormachev Donuts.

Unfortunately, such viewpoints were not met with jaunty shouts of, "To each man his own." They were often met with threats and bricks with fists to faces and blood squirting in streams from funky wounds.

This was a serious business.

Friends would expose their acquaintances as closet bagel eaters.

A child's innocent comment in a grocery store, ("Screw Gormachev donuts.") could elicit dirty looks towards the parent, spitwads, thrown shoes, a declination of service by the clerk, and a general din or hullabaloo.

**

"Looks like we won't be able to send Johnny to college."

"I keep tellin' ya. I wanna be a musician."

"Why not dear?"

"They fired me today. The boss took me into his office, by the scruff of my neck. And he fired me."

"Why how on-"

"Don't need no education to play a C chord."

"Mr. Trexlerbaul found this in my wastebasket."

"Tellerman Donuts?"

"Looka this. Perfect strum."

"How could you?"

"I'm sorry, I..."

"Putting our future at stake to satisfy your goddamn urges."

KNOCK

KNOCK

"Who's that?"

"Shaddap."

"Wonderful pitch "

"They've come for us. Someone at work must've talked."

"Come out! We know you're in there."

"Be quiet."

"That's a perfect C chord in there. Open the door."

"Don't open the door. Don't."

"I'm not afraid."

"Please."

"I will not allow them to bully us."

A general din

"They will not force us from our home."

bangbangbangbangetc.

"Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"

"Oh my God! Myrtle "

"It's gonna be alright."

"Your beautiful balloon sculptures "

**

Eddie Tellerman, driving home the night after his father's funeral, drove past a building which used to be leased by a small office products retail store. There was a sign in the building's parking lot, and it read, jubilantly:

COMING SOON: GORMACHEV DONUTS FOR WEST BUCAN

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Tellerman,

One would think that I, a winner of the Nobel Prize, a genius and unlocker of puzzles, would be able to find happiness in this world of which I know so much.

It should be of no surprise to you that I am nowhere near the aforementioned emotion in the previous paragraph. In fact, I am much closer to the polar opposite of happiness despite my many accomplishments and millions of dollars in grants from well endowed sources throughout the world.

The reason for this ever present current emotion (sadness), as you have no doubt already heard about, regards your daughter, Enola Tellerman, and her refusal to accept my proposal of blissful matrimony.

I've loved very little (and by that I mean few) things in the course of my fortunate life. When I was somewheres in the ballpark of 8 months old, I'm pretty sure I loved a rattle. Unfortunately, that was many years ago, and I no longer have the rattle and I am no longer sure a rattle would suffice for my matured needs (and by mature, I mean purely intellectual (and admittedly, I haven't attempted any such experiments with rattles at the current age (and OK, I have now, for the past five minutes, played with a small rattle which I picked up at a local market of the super variety without any luck whatsoever)))

I seem to remember having a pet turtle as I was growing up, and I'm pretty sure I loved him although I'm not entirely sure why. I was greatly infatuated with my advanced calculus graphing calculator in high school, but I suppose this is to be expected. Since college, I've been married (in a non-binding fashion) to my work as a researcher in the field of physics. I won't bore you about the specifics as I'm certain that a discussion of the fusion and fission of everyday household items (the other day I came chillingly close to creating a chain reaction in a set of banana peels (etc. (etc.))) would bore you to no end.

Anyhow:

I implore you to implore Enola to reconsider her rash rejection of my proposal as it would greatly benefit mankind in addition to providing me with a lifelong partner with whom I could share my great intellect (it would also allow us (Enola and I) to indulge in our shared passion for backgammon). I find it troubling that a mind as great as your daughter's is being wasted, which I discovered through an interview I conducted in disguise with your two children after one of their birthday parties.

Let me ask you:

Do you really want your children wasting their brilliant minds playing crude practical jokes and childish games of hide and seek (and I know what you're thinking, and I should point out that backgammon is a game of genuine skill which requires several years to master, if not a lifetime.) Mrs. Tellerman, I can already hear you (you especially) saying something along the gist of, "Well they've already graduated from Harvard, how many children have done that at their age etc.?" and I can already tell you that lots of children graduate from Harvard. It is certainly not the prestigious distinction which you think it is. Why, I met two 5 years olds who told me that they had graduated (with honors) just the other day from Harvard and Princeton. Distinction is necessary, and a marriage to me, an internationally recognized lad, would provide the proper base from which to launch an incredible research career. How many children your children's age have married a Nobel Prize winning physicist?

That's right:

None.

Your daughter would be the first. Certainly you do not want to pass up such an opportunity, not only for her sake, but for the world's sake. Who knows what wonderful discoveries the scientific team of Adolphus and Enola Andorap will make?

I know. And they will be real humdingers.

Sincerely,

Adolphus Andorap

**

Interesting fact:

People used to save money for cars. They'd create nest eggs with the intention of buying houses. Concerns for their children's futures convinced them to take out loans for college. These educational concerns led to many parents spending considerable amounts of money on Twixley's Brain Food for their children. The feeding schedule began at 12 months and guaranteed increased verbal, cognitive, and logical skills at a rapidly accelerated pace. For example, at the beginning of the process, an infant might have uttered these choice words:

"Wubble aryle loo-oond"

Two days later, the same infant may say through a toothless mouth:

"Pwease tank you'd yeah."

And by the end of the week:

"Eee equals emcee squared. Eee equals emcee squared. Eee equals emcee squared."

After the phase of perpetual theoretical relativity utterances passed (including the bouts of using building blocks to represent said equation), children developed rapid learning skills. They could absorb books in hours, derive calculus equations, integrate calculus equations, come up with their own types of maths, and mix explosive chemicals to impress one another.

By going lean for many years, Eddie and Ulna Tellerman saved up enough money to buy enough of this food to feed their children until they were four years old (insults from age peers regarding the fact that the children still ate baby food were met with polysyllabic insults that left those targeted in bawling fits). Eddie was highly insistent on this, Ulna found, because of his religious upbringing which eschewed what he considered a proper education.

Ulna wore clothes from thrift shops. Eddie's business expenses were tight. It had been revealed that they were having twins, and the couple was insistent on making every condition desirable for the arrival of their offspring.

**

Over the hills, through the woods, we went to Grandpa Tellerman's house.

The road was filled with old memories and Eddie and I remained silent as we passed the windmill where I revealed my news to him several Thanksgivings ago. The twins sat in the back of the seat, singing an improvised duet based around the digits of Pi and Euler's number. It's good that we had twins, or else our children wouldn't have had anyone to talk to.

Eddie sat in the driver's seat with a cigarette dangling out of the left half of his mouth. It had been discovered years ago that the government encouraged the increase of toxic chemicals in cigarettes in order to quickly rub out those who smoked, thus decreasing smokers and improving the remaining population's health. This was the reason why I personally invested in two child sized gas masks for Albert and Enola. It was the apparent lack of concern for his family's wellbeing that made me consider leaving Eddie who, despite my protests, continued to smoke after inexplicably starting after hearing of his father's cancer.

Friday; and my husband reeked of underarm deodorant liberally applied to his torso's entire surface area. By Tuesday, I figured, if he continued to ignore me, I'd leave him. I would pack up the children and we'd find a place to stay and maybe this would lead Eddie to reconsider his actions. Hopefully the jolt would jar him out of this selfdestructive phase he had entered and we could start again and work through what would probably be some painful withdrawal symptoms from cigarettes.

My daughter, Enola Tellerman, sang:

"Two, zero, eight, ninenineeight, six, two, eightohthree."

My son, Albert Tellerman, backed her up:

"Three, five, two, sixsixtwo "

I recognized the rhythm as that of the cha-cha-cha, which Eddie and I used to dance during my early pregnancy with the twins.

We arrived at Grandpa Tellerman's house, and Enola and Albert absorbed the environment into their minds. They'd never visited before, and seemed thrilled at finding something new, a rarity for their minds.

Eddie and I meandered through the house.

"This is where I got my hair cut," he'd note

or

"Remember Thanksgiving? We could've changed a lot of things."

I said:

"We did what was important," and I meant the children even though they weren't in the picture at that time. I think we handled the miscarriage well. I think I handled it well, the ensuing emptiness.

The twins followed us into the basement. Enola saw it first, and her jaw dropped. Albert's eyes widened, and I could hear his heartbeat from across the room. Eddie and I looked on in bewilderment. After some amazed stuttering, the twins informed us that sitting on their late grandfather's basement floor was a slightly aged and, from the looks of it, fully operational nuclear weapon.

**

We were informed that we were not going to leave the house.

Enola and Albert wouldn't want to leave anyhow. The intellectual spark had reemerged in their young bodies.

I avoided Eddie. His goal, which he told me and fully expected me to support, was this:

My husband, Eddie Tellerman, was going to use our children to help deploy an illegally acquired and supposedtobe extinct weapon to ward off the rival Gormachev Donuts from entering his territory.

Several synonyms presented themselves for the word "insane." I selected "ludicrous" and attributed it to him and his plan. I said that we needed to take the situation to the proper authorities.

A look emerged from my husband's eyes, and signaled an alarm. I'm not sure when this look had managed to find its way to my husband.

I had seen the look once before, on a Thanksgiving, when we didn't refer to Grandpa Tellerman's turkey as exquisite.

"This is ridiculous. How do you possibly think you could get away with just shaking nuclear weapons at people?" I told him.

"It's only a threat."

"The world's changed. The authorities won't respond kindly to this."

"No," he said, "The world has stayed the same, and it's time we've stopped fooling ourselves. It's time we changed. And if they come for us, we'll threaten them too."

I wanted to leave, but my children remained and so would I. They were young, and despite my protests, were easily seduced by setting up the fancy equipment needed to deploy the weapon. The basement was littered with all sorts of electronics.

I wondered about radiation.

One does not become an overwhelmingly powerful local phenomenon without tricks up one's sleeve, as was proven by the immense (when you consider the darn things were supposed to be extinct) stockpile of five tactical nuclear weapons somehow acquired and maintained by Gormachev Donuts.

Joseph Gormachev received the threat via telephone. An unflinching sort; Gormachev responded with the revelation that he too held similar weapons to that of Tellerman Donuts, which threatened him from the other side of the What You Need Wall. The voice on the other end of the telephone quivered but stood firm on his threat to eliminate all of Eastern Bucan if an invasion of the West took place. Joseph Gormachev reiterated that he could do the same to all of Western Bucan.

A gangly scientist who, for some odd reason, was immensely interested in the donut business of Bucan, sat in the office of Joseph Gormachev as the telephone conversation took place. As the conversation ended in stalemate, Joseph turned to the man sitting across from his desk, who twiddled his thumbs furiously, and spoke (Joseph did):

"You are a scientist of immense power and intellect in the field of physics, no?"

"Well, I'm usually quite modest about my superior thinking resources "

"Then you must help me crush a rival franchise that inhibits my expansion into Western Bucan."

"I'm here for research on the possibility of fusion reactions in glazed donuts."

Joseph Gormachev had standard issue toughs, and, it being an exceptional day for threats, persuaded Nobel Prize winner, Adolphus Andorap to assist him in his new business venture.

**

The mood was tense at the elder Tellerman's house.

Ulna Tellerman sat in the attic, fuming.

Eddie Tellerman sat in the basement with the warhead while the children sat in a nearby shed, tinkering with electronics.

Radiation sickness causes hairloss, and teethloss, and spectacular skin burns, and Eddie felt truly sad that he was without a wig. He realized that he was probably dying, more so than others.

And this also made him sad.

Doesn't she understand, he thought, that I am doing this for her and the children?

There was a knock at the door. It occurred to Eddie that perhaps it was assassins ready to kill him and steal his warhead. Certainly something he hadn't considered, what with his glee and sadness at the falling flecks of hair.

**

Fidgety, flightful Adolphus Andorap sat in the living room, announcing the intentions of his employer. He revealed that he had defected from Gormachev Donuts and was willing to work with the Tellermans.

"To develop a strong way to crush their franchise?" Eddie asked.

"No," Adolphus said, "I'm hoping that we can negotiate with him."

"He wants another Nobel Prize," Enola half-groaned, "for peace."

"Negotiation's not an option. Peace never works. I thought you were smart."

"Well then," Adolphus chuckled, "It should behoove you ["Ooh, 'behoove,'" Albert said, rolling his eyes.] that I have developed something."

"Out with it man! Let's use it."

"Only if you force your daughter's hand to marry me."

"An outrage. He wouldn't possibly consider that."

"My daughter would require the best care."

"Daad"

Adolphus produced, from his pocket, a black box.

"I call it Andorap's Box. Here are the calculations."

He threw some papers at Albert and Enola, who paled as they read them.

Ulna Tellerman stepped down the stairs, triggering a memory of their nonborn child. Ulna had looked so unbelievably happy back then, as they painted the nursery, and practiced nursery rhymes and the like. Her eyes were now red, and she scowled at everyone in the room. She hunched in a disgusted stoop. Eddie looked at Adolphus, his daughter's future husband, who would have to stoop to kiss her on the top of her head, and would play backgammon with her forever. Enola and Albert were supremely agitated by what was written on the notes Adolphus had written.

Once:

Ulna and Eddie had dressed up as prairie dogs to protest the vacuuming and bashing over the head of prairie dogs. They were disgusted that any creature could be treated in such a way without any say in the matter.

Adolphus brought out another black box, presumably a ring box. It was the same size as Andorap's box. He dropped them both on the floor, on accident.

"What a klutz I am," he said, with a satisfied chuckle.

Ulna stared at Eddie from the stairs. She had heard him through the whole discussion, and no longer felt any kindness towards him.

Enola Tellerman said:

"Dad, please, no."

Albert looked up as Adolphus began opening one of the boxes to propose, presumably.

Eddie Tellerman said:

"Adolphus, no."

Albert said:

"Adolphus, no!"

"Please leave," Eddie continued.

Ulna almost managed a smile.

Adolphus dumbfoundedly continued to open the box, which was of his own invention.

Enola and Albert screamed, for they knew what was on the paper and inside the box, and what awaited the world.

Andorap's Box was open, and the result promptly obliterated the socks off those who wore them and the ensuing event was nothing short of a humdinger.

**

© Jonathan Redhorse 2003

This story was shortlisted for storySouth's Million Writers Award. Laila Lalami interviewed the candidates prior to the selection of the winner and this is what Jonathan had to say to her:

The idea for “The Atomic Tellermans” came to me in July 2002. I was preparing to take a few classes at Cambridge University for their two-week international summer school program and I had to do some preliminary reading on such topics as World War II, 20th Century Conflicts, and NATO. As I was reading Wilson’s Ghost by Robert McNamara and James G. Blight, I came across a passage describing a hypothetical process for international nuclear disarmament that would rely on total weapons disposal by everyone in order for it to work. If there was a straggler, then obviously that country (or non-state entity) would hold a strategic advantage. So then I thought, “I should write a story about a suburbanite threatening his neighbors with a nuclear weapon.” Except for Section 3, most of the story was handwritten during class lectures at Cambridge and at my current school, the University of Denver, from August to December 2002.

I could analyze this story to infinity. But I won’t because it would be exhausting and I don’t want anyone to be exhausted. Instead, we should burn calories laughing. I think the fact that the story was nominated for anything is a weird, happy, wonderful accident. The fact that it was picked up by Carrie Berry (a flabbergastingly creative and industrious individual) for online publication in the Gator Springs Gazette is another amazing accident.

As I approach the start of my third decade, I hope that everyone will be privy to significant happy accidents, provided they are willing to put in the effort for others.