Professor Kappa's Killer Quizzes (short story 20)

Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.



*It was the moronic answer that did it.

With a gin and tonic on the side and a King Crimson song playing low in the background, Professor Kappa grades a quiz from his calculus class with a green pen. Not red but green, because he'd a nice guy and someone said red adds to math phobias. His sensitive brain froze on seeing the answer, written by an overly confident student in blue pen, in pen for Pete's sake:

As if the "+C" made up for the horrid stupidity of the answer. "So stupid. I swear they get dumber every year!" He'd told his students over and over again that the integral of the exponential function is that function back again. He'd told them ad nauseum that the only function whose integral was x times that function was the constant function. Is the exponential function a constant function? No!

So, when Kappa gave the quiz question,

he thought it was about the kindest question he could create. Who couldn't get that correct? The answer to Professor Kappa was clear: Only someone who knew that his end of the year teacher rating was dependent on their test scores being "above average." Only someone who knew that the midterm and final were machine-graded, then automatically entered into a database, the same database that determined his end of the year rating. Only someone who thought that his kindness and generosity in asking such a brain-dead simple question was a weakness to be exploited and twisted to their own evil student ends. Yes, the devious student who would give such an answer clearly hated him. Such a student was obviously self-centered beyond measure, and undoubtedly evil to the core of their being. That student must die.

But how? What's a fitting way for an evil idiot, who knows nothing of calculus, to die? They don't know how to compute an area or a volume, a standard calculus application, so they could be smashed to death. He smiled at that. Satisfied with his solution, he gulped his gin. They don't know how to compute speed or acceleration, another use of calculus, so they could die in a car accident. He smiled at that too. Another gulp. But eventually that smile turned into a frown. The problem with those methods of murder, the eminent Professor Kappa reasoned, was that they were disconnected from the question itself. The question involved an exponential function. Being smashed to death, or dying in a car accident, didn't seem to be associated with the exponential function in any way. The kinds of applications one naturally connects with the exponential function are things like grown of a bacteria population. The astute reader will know that the decay of a radio-active substance, balance in a bank account with a fixed interest rate, and heat dissipation are also exponential. (If you don't know that, you could die as well, but finish this story first.) Professor Kappa imagined poisoning the student with a deadly virus, a thought that brought a smug, satisfied smile to his face. Of course, it has to be administered carefully to avoid killing any students who got the correct quiz answer, but he'll worry about those minutia later. Prof Kappa took another sip of his gin and went to grade the next quiz question. Eventually, Professor Kappa finished grading that student's quiz and gave the student a big red F. On Kappa's killer quiz, the F was usually stood for Fatal.

By the end of the semester, the F was indeed fatal, but that student was not the only one in the class that died. There were a few other Fs on Kappa's quiz. However, none of them survived long enough to take the machine-graded midterm whose grade would determine Prof Kappa's end of the year rating. Of course, these deaths were carefully planned out, to avoid attracting attention and raising suspicions. But one student, Alice was her name, did grow suspicious. Alice was the best of the best, getting 100 percent on every quiz. So good, in fact, that the weaker students often asked her for help. And she was so kind that, in fact, she tried to help them. Some she helped learned the material, while others she helped just didn't. She noticed who was learning and who wasn't and who died mysteriously and who didn't. It was a pretty straightforward correlation, so naturally Alice's suspicions grew (but not exponentially, ha, ha).

After the final example for the class, Alice calls up her bestie Becky to touch base. Becky went the police academy route, instead of the college student one that Alice took. Becky takes off her badge, puts on a preppy outfit, tells her supervisor she's visiting her sick grandma for a few days, and drives to the sleepy university town that Alice calls home.

Becky learns from Alice that Prof Kappa is teaching a calculus course at night that is still open for late enrollment. The next day, Becky is a student in Professor Kappa's class. She finds a cute little one-room log cabin for rent at a local resort. It's so cute she has to brag about it out loud just before the bell rings to start Prof Kappa's class. The bell rings and he announces a quiz in a few days then starts to lecture them on logarithmic integrals. "Remember, the integral of one over cabin dee cabin is log cabin, ha, ha!" Yes, he's very funny when he wants to be. (Yes, that's sarcasm.)

Later, bestie Alice comes over to the log cabin rental and helps Becky cram for the quiz. A few days later, on that fateful quiz there's this question:

Becky and Alice have prepared for this. Becky thinks carefully and the writes, in bold pen stokes,

Becky turns in her quiz and goes back to her cute little cabin.

That night, Becky tosses and turns and, around midnight, realizes she can't sleep, so she turns on the lights, puts on a light jacket, and wanders around the resort. Around that time Alice decided to visit her (what a coincidence!) and, together, they roam the resort. As they wander back in view of Becky's front door, they sees, in the moon light, Professor Kappa, wearing dark clothes and a black ski mask, sneaking into her cabin. Sadly, he trips over the cans of gasoline and falls into the fireplace. "Look at that," Alice says. "Clumsy me," Becky says dramatically. They smile at each other. "Did you buy accidental fire insurance?" Alice asks. "Of course. With a log cabin, one can never be too careful," Becky says.

The town newspaper's headline told the story the next day: "Calculus professor cremated in cabin combustion."

The moral of the story: calculus quizzes can kill in more ways that you can count.

A breakdown of The Wizard of Oz (1939)

This is a breakdown of the classic film The Wizard of Oz, using the terminology of screenwriter extraordinaire Michael Arndt. His terminology is described in his videos posted to his pandemoniuminc.com site. (See also this post and that post of mine.) For the breakdown using the five point breakdown, see this thescriptlab.com post, and for the breakdown using the sequence method, see this scriptlab.com post. For the breakdown using Blake Snyder’s method, see the savethecat.com post. Scott Myers has a nice post to his Go Into The Story blog on the character types in The Wizard of Oz. As of this writing, the script is available online - just type "The Wizard of Oz script" into your favorite search engine.

Act 1: In act 1, we learn a young Kansas farm girl Dorothy (the protagonist) has a dog Toto that she loves dearly. However, a mean neighborhood lady has gotten a written order to take Toto away to be “destroyed” (apparently Toto bit the lady, so she went to the police). Dorothy’s aunt and uncle (her parents are dead) are not supportive, nor are the three farmhands. To save her dog, Dorothy and Toto run away. (Many call this event the inciting incident of the story.) Soon they meet a traveling magician who convinces her to return home. She does but the incoming tornado has already arrived and she’s locked out of the storm cellar. As she hides in her bedroom, she’s knocked out by flying debris. Then she dreams that her house is carried away by the tornado, landing in the dream world of Oz. I’m going to argue that this is the inciting incident. My “proof” is based on Michael Arndt’s assertion (eg, see this post) that the inciting incident must

1. disrupt the protagonist's plans for the future,
   
2. change their sense of self,
   
3. change their sense of the future
   
4. be unforeseen,
   
5. visceral,
   
6. (hopefully) involve an action piece enacting this worst fear,
   
7. involve the worst possible thing that can happen.
   

IMHO, Dorothy “waking up” in Oz after being knocked out cold fits these criteria better than (temporarily) running away from home. None-the-less, both support the viewpoint that Dorothy would prefer to escape from her problems than to confront them.

Once in Oz, Dorothy now has (in Arndt’s terminology) a global goal: Dorothy wants to go home to Kansas. (This is also called an external need by some writers.) Her internal need is that she wants to find a place that she can call home, where people love her and support her. I argue that her philosophical need (some might call this a character flaw) is that she wants to be able to (1) confront her problems instead of running away from them, (2) tell good people from bad people, tricksters from honest friends. (3) She wants to learn what courage really means, what love really means, what intelligence really means -- basically to mature and grow as a young girl.

After landing in Munchkinland, Dorothy learns her house accidentally killed the Wicked Witch of the East. To the Munchkins she’s a hero. She meets the Good Witch of the North. They tell her she must see the Wizard to get back to Kansas, who lives at the end of the yellow brick road. The Wicked Witch of the West arrives, furious that her sister (Wicked Witch of the East) has been killed. This witch threatens Dorothy but can’t do anything because the Good Witch is protecting her in Munchkinland. Dorothy’s new expectation for the future is that if she walks to the end of the yellow brick road then Wizard will send her back to Kansas. Therefore her short-term goal is to meet the Wizard. This goal meets Arndt’s criteria: the short-term goal must be a clear, pass/fail objective, seemingly easy to achieve, and (hopefully) have a ticking clock attached. There is no explicit ticking clock, but Dorothy does want to get home ASAP. This point is where the act 1 break occurs.

Act 2: In act 2, Dorothy meets the Scarecrow (with no brain), the Tin Man (with no heart) and the Cowardly Lion (with no courage). She also runs into the Wicked Witch of the East again, but escapes harm. Now, their expectation of the future is that the Wizard will help Dorothy go home, give the Scarecrow a brain, the Tin Man a heart, the Lion courage. According to Arndt, the midpoint should

1. change direction,
   
2. deepen the stakes,
   
3. provide all exposition needed to solve the problem,
   
4. recognize an new inner flaw,
   
5. have new obstacles (because every change in direction requires a new set of obstacles), reversals in as close proximity as possible.
   

Some say the midpoint is when Dorothy, at the end of the yellow brick road, falls asleep in the field of flowers. Others say (and I agree) that the midpoint is after Dorothy and her trio of friends enter the Emerald City, talk to the Wizard, but he demands they must bring back the broom of the Wicked Witch of the West before he will grant their wishes. (Note: they don’t actually meet the Wizard but a projected image of him.) This meets (a), (b), (c) and (e). I’m not sure about (d) - does Dorothy recognize a new flaw (maybe she realizes she’s too trusting?). I’m not sure about (f) either. Certainly, the Wizard demanding the WWW’s broom is a reversal.Other twists (ie, reversal) are: (1) WWW capturing Dorothy and saying she will die soon, (2) Toto and the trio rescuing Dorothy, (3) when Dorothy defends her friend the Scarecrow as he’s lit on fire by the WWW, Dorothy accidentally kills the WWW with the pail of water (“I’m melting!” the WWW screams).

According to Arndt, the act 2 brake should

1. achieve the short-term plan,
   
2. there's a setback in the protagonist's global goal, and things look bad again,
   
3. the protagonist must fail internally, externally, and philosophically.
   

There are differing opinions as to where this occurs. I argue that the act 2 brake is after Dorothy and her friends return to the Emerald City for the second time. They give the WWW’s broom to the Wizard, but he (or rather the projected image of him) refuses to grant their request. To me, this satisfies (a), (b) and (c). The failure of her philosophical girl is she doesn't know what's right, what's wrong, what's real and what's trickery. Nor has she confronted her main problem, which is to convince the Wizard to send her home.

Act 3: After the Wizard refuses their request, we start act 3. With this interpretation, act 3 is very short. The climax occurs almost immediately, where the protagonist embraces her values. (The love and devotion to her friends, no matter what, seeing others for who they really are.) In the climax, her ally (Toto) comes to the rescue (pulling aside the Wizard’s curtain, revealing him for who he really is), leading to the decisive act, the epiphany. In the epiphany, the protagonist must face up to the viewpoint of the antagonist, confront it, overcome their flaw and become a better person as a result. Dorothy’s epiphany arises when she confronts the Professor (who’s disguised himself as the Wizard).

She tells him honestly what she thinks of him. He then agrees to honor his promises. They all (Dorothy and the trio) become better and wiser as a result of this epiphany.

Notes on Michael Arndt's "Lessons Learned"

Michael Arndt, of Little Miss Sunshine and Toy Story 3 fame, created a 72 minute Lessons Learned video on the learning process he went through writing TS3. To bring home the we-are-always-learning motif, I want to emphasize that this was after Arndt won the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. As evidence that these are indeed really good lessons learned (or "Tools, not Rules", as he would say), let me point out that for writing TS3 he was nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay. To be clear, the video is excellent! It's best just to stop here and watch it, but for those that like a written preview here are my notes, hopefully without too many mistakes. BTW, my notes on his excellent Endings video are here.

In act 1, your protagonist needs a global goal. For example, after she's landed in Oz, Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz has the overall goal of going back home to Kansas. (By the way, GITS has a nice blog post on The Wizard of Oz.) It must be compelling and sympathetic, with deep negative emotional consequences for failure. Moreover, it should

- be the beginning of a journey or quest,

- show how the protagonist's desperately wants something,

- have maximum rooting interest,

- be an active, specific and clearly defined.

Your protagonist's expectations for the future must not be vague or subject to debate. Instead, they must be certain, clear, and specific. Before the end of act 1, the inciting incident must

- disrupt the protagonist's plans for the future,

- change their sense of self,

- change their sense of the future.

(If it's a problem figuring this out, Arndt suggests one way to approach this is to imagine the worst possible thing that can happen to your protagonist and work backwards.) In addition, the inciting incident must also be

- unforeseen,

- visceral,

- (hopefully) involve an action piece enacting this worst fear,

- involve the worst possible thing that can happen.

At the act 1 break, the protagonist has developed a short-term plan which will lead them to their global goal. It should be a

- clear, binary, pass/fail objective,

- seemingly easy to achieve,

- (hopefully) have a ticking clock attached.

For example, in The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy decides to go see the Wizard at the end of the yellow brick road, in hopes he can help her get back to Kansas. The midpoint should

- change direction,

- deepen the stakes,

- provide all exposition needed to solve the problem,

- recognize an new inner flaw,

- have new obstacles (because every change in direction requires a new set of obstacles),

- reversals in as close proximity as possible.

No treading water! The act 2 brake should

- achieve the short-term plan,

- there's a setback in the protagonist's global goal, and things look bad again,

- the protagonist must fail internally, externally, and philosophically.

The ugly truth cannot be avoided. For Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, she doesn't feel like her home in Kansas is where people love her. For example, she fights with a neighbor lady over Toto, but the people in her extended family (her parents are dead) don't seem to care. Her internal goal is she wants her extended family to be her real family. Her philosophical goal is to define herself as a maturing girl, adapting to the world out there. In some sense, it's a coming of age allegory. The failure of her philosophical girl is she doesn't know who she is, what's right, what's wrong, what's real and what's trickery.

The audience should not see anyway out of this internal-external-philosophical failure until the climax, which is late in act 3. Overcoming these failures is accomplished in what is called the epiphany. In the epiphany, the protagonist must face up to the viewpoint of the antagonist, confront it, and become a better person as a result. Dorothy epiphany occurs when she confronts the Wizard, who's really just a Professor hiding behind a curtain with some mechanical tricks.

O'Ryan's bark (short story 19)

Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.

This story was inspired by old film noirs such as The Big Combo and who doesn't love dogs?

*

Detective Leon O'Ryan drives his new 1940 police cruiser on a downtown street in the neo-noir majestic city of Dogsville. He's a Leonberger, a kind of cross between a St Bernard and a German Shepard. A thick-coated gentle giant, unless you cross him. In the distance he sees the Opera House. He parks under the neon art deco-styled sign "Opera House" and barks once as he gets out of his Ford. He wants everyone to know he's on a case. Well-dressed patrons pour into the entrance from the sidewalk.

O'Ryan, wearing hang-dog expression, approaches Tina, a frizzy-furred Terrier-mix ticket-taker in a theater uniform. He flashes his police badge with a hungry growl. "Rough night, Tina?" O'Ryan’s already headed backstage.

"Oh, Detective O'Ryan, so nice of you to ask ... but just ignore me and go right in" she sniffs. She's in love with him. The feelings not mutual.

O'Ryan enters a hallway and spots Lucky Lewis, an energetic and independent Irish Setter, and Bella Blade, a strong-willed alert Kerry Blue Terrier. They're sitting on their haunches outside an office having a spirited discussion.

"Give me that wink one more time I will cut you," Blade says to Lewis. YIIIPPP! Blade yelps, gently nips at her bottom, and growls at Lewis. He looks at her innocently, but as she stares him down, his stare breaks into a smirk. WHAM! She slaps Lewis right across the face. Her claws leave a mark.

O'Ryan approaches them, Blade confronts him. "Tighten your lease, big boy."

Knife Nickels, a bold and boisterous German Shorthaired Pointer, joins them from another direction wearing a tux. He brushes Blade back. "I'll handle this, Blade. Can I help you, Detective O'Ryan?"

"I'm looking for Mr Biddel."

"Who says he’s here?" Nickels asks.

"I do, dog-dammit!" O'Ryan barks.

Lewis and Knife bark back. "Say the magic word," Blade yaps. The thugs snicker.

O'Ryan reaches into a pocket of the tux and pulls out some poker chips. "Back off or I'll raid the Biddel Casino. I've seen evidence of your poker games ..."

An image of a Dogs Playing Poker painting on velvet flashes in O'Ryan's mind. They all see it. The dog thugs’ smiles vanish.

"And when I say raid, I mean I'll pee on every poker table and slot machine in sight. Accidentally." He growls and lifts a back leg in a threatening manner.

Knife Nickels takes a perfect Pointer stance in the direction of Mr Biddel. "Amazing. You know the magic word, Detective. Follow me." Nickels trots.






In the Opera Center's rehearsal room, Mr Biddel’s musical trio is playing. It consists of:

-- Guitarist Ivan, a blue-eyed Siberian Husky whose friends say is outgoing and friendly. His enemies know he's got a vicious bite and doesn't issue a warning growl first.

-- Drummer Marco, an Andalusian Hound whose excellent sight and hearing makes up for his scrawnny looks.

-- Pianist Frita, a very intelligent, curly-haired Spanish Water dog who daydreams of swimming in a lake.

Some may call Mr Biddel, a "blue" Bedlington Terrier, spirited and some may call him intelligent, but no one, I mean no one, calls him affectionate. His bodyguard Charla the Choke, a sturdy female English Bulldog with slobber on her big jowls, sits nearby. They both watch Susan Meropy, a high-strung but friendly Papillon, on a rehearsal platform. Other singers, also in fancy dress, stand to the side on the platform waiting their turn in line. Meropy is expertly howling a beautiful aria. Everyone but Mr Biddel and Charla smiles while listening to her.

Mr Biddel leans over to Charla. "Have her start working at the Casino tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Charla says.

Lewis, Blade, O'Ryan and Nickels enter. Nickels trades a glance with Charla. She gives him a tiny smile. They've got something going on, after hours doggie style.

Charla signals to Meropy and she suddenly stops. "Wonderful, thank you, Miss Meropy. You can start tomorrow."

Meropy sees O'Ryan and laughs nervously. O'Ryan looks at the racy Dogs Playing Strip Poker painting hanging on the wall behind Mr Biddel. One of them looks like Susan.

"Thank you. Glad the opera lessons my parents paid for weren’t completely wasted," Susan says.

"Yes, they were. It won't be here," Mr Biddel says smugly.

Charla tosses Susan a skimpy glittery harness with a silvery chain-collar. "You’ll be working the Casino." O'Ryan growls. Susan just whines a sad note.

"Next!" barks Charla. One of the other singers, a Poodle mix, gets on the platform, yapping happily, brushing Susan aside. The Poodle mix gets the nod from Charla and starts singing her song.

"Mr Biddel, Detective O'Ryan wants to see you," Nickels says. Mr Biddel growls and stares coldly at O'Ryan for a moment before he turns on his characteristic charm with a friendly yap. "Detective O'Ryan, what a pleasure this is. What can I do for you?"

"There was a murder at the von Dyck mansion this morning," O'Ryan says.

"Horrible," Biddel says dryly.

"I appreciate your concern, considering your father was ..."

"Murdered there by a hit-and-run driver." YOWWLLL! Biddle howls at the moon. "So, you think there's a connection?"

O'Ryan examines the jowls of the other dogs, especially those in the band. "This one was reported yesterday."

"You're confused, Detective. How could the murder be reported yesterday but occur this morning?"

"Yesterday morning, a letter arrived at the von Dyck mansion demanding a ransom. If a million dog-bones wasn't paid in twenty-four hours, it said one of them would die."

Mr Biddel turns to Charla and Nickels. "Do you either of you think they paid the ransom?"

"Couldn't say, boss," Charla says.

"No clue, boss," Nickels says.

"I'm guessing they didn't. Such a dog-darned shame," Mr Biddel says.

"So, you had nothing to do with it?"

"Nothing whatsoever."

``Whoever did it killed one of your own family members," O'Ryan growls.

"It's a dog eat dog world out there," Mr Biddle says.

"Well, everywhere, actually," Susan correctly him. Mr Biddle stares her down. Charla adds to it a low growl. "Sorry," she whines.

O'Ryan tosses Mr Biddel a poker chip, which bounces off Biddel's nose and rolls over to Blade who sniffs it cautiously. Some dogs can't fetch worth one dog-damn. "I've got proof of illegal gambling at your casino. If I see you're connected with the mansion murder, you're going down."

"Illegal gambling? I have no idea what you are talking about," Mr Biddel says.

The cell-phone dangling from O'Ryan's collar rings. "You still have a 1939 cell phone, Lenny?" Susan asks. O'Ryan's cell phone looks like a box with a seem in it. Dogsville has always had cell phone, even in the 1940s. "I'll upgrade when I get around to it," he says as he flips it open, looks at the caller ID and closes it with a growl. "I gotta go. Thanks for nothing, Biddel" he says sarcastically.

O'Ryan looks at Meropy, who braves a sad "Call me," then he exits, growling as he passes Nickels and Charla.

Mr Biddel turns to his band. "You two, go prepare another dose," he barks. Frita and Marco nod and run out, barking excitedly, their nails clacking on the tile floor.

"Deliver another letter," Mr Biddel barks to Ivan.

Ivan nods. "At the usual time?"

"Yes."

Ivan bounds towards the door with a yap.



*

The Dogsville Police Department is a concrete and steel structure. Two uniformed German Shepherd cops enter the glass and steel double doors.

Typical glass-walled police office. Wanted posters on the walls, messy desk with a large desk plate reading "Commissioner Lockberg," overflowing bookshelf, scattered chairs. Commissionor Harvey Lockberg, a old Bloodhound, sits at his desk, sniffing the von Dyck case files. He's dressed in a three piece suit which doesn't quite hide his big beer belly.
Wearing a wrist watch and a uniform, Renee Molina, a female Doberman Pinscher with a mean disposition, stands at attention. Clayton Alton, a hard-working Hungarian Puli, enters with Ron the Rubberneck, a Dachshund, who he pushes down into a chair.

"Here’s Rubberneck, like you asked, Commissioner Lockberg," Alton says.

"Good work." Lockberg picks up a thick phonebook. "Back from Dogsville General already, Molina?"

"Sir, the doctor pronounced me fit and ready for duty," Molina says. She snaps at an imagined fly in the room.

"Glad you have you back on the force."

"Glad to be wearing the blue again, sir," she says.

"I'm not guilty. I had nothing to do with it," Rubberneck says innocently.

"I didn’t even ask you anything yet," says Lockberg.

"The news of the von Dyck murder has has every tail in the city wagging, but I don't know nothing," Rubberneck says.

Lockberg takes a practice swing at Rubberneck's head with the phonebook. "Just warming up," he growls.

"Poisoning is not my thing. I have simpler methods," Rubberneck whines.

"He burns his victims with acid," Molina says. Rubberneck's face stretches into a proud smile.

"True. It’s not his M.O., boss," Alton says.

Lockberg slams the phonebook on his desk. The phone rings. "Get this freak out of here. Question other other inmates."

"Mind if I borrow your phonebook?" Molina asks.

"I like the way you think, Molina, but get your own dog-damn phonebook!" Lockberg picks up the phone, held away form his jaws.

"Yes, sir." Alton and Molina leave with Rubberneck.

Lockberg speaks into the phone. "Dogsville Police, Lockberg. ... Son-of-a-bitch, another letter? ... Be right there." Lockberg grabs his coat and trots out.


*


Against the night time sky, the marquee of Biddel's Casino shouts:

Iceberg Casino! Beautiful Dancers! Gambling!

O'Ryan exits his parked car, runs to an alley neighboring the entrance, climbs the steps up the side entrance, and throws open the door with his teeth. Too late, he sees the sign "Careful! Don't leave bite marks on the door knob!"

In her casino dressing room, Susan, still wearing her tiny dancing outfit, sips a drink and strips off glitter and make-up. KNOCK, KNOCK! O'Ryan enters.

"Some audition, huh, Lenny?" Susan says.

"From opera dreams to casino dancer. Mr Biddel sure stuck a pin in your ballon, doll face."

"Hostess, is the correct term, thank you," Susan says with a sarcastic laugh.

"Glad you can laugh about it. Do you know what's Mr Biddel up to?"

"All I know is what he pays me to know, which isn't much." Susan rubs up against O'Ryan. He smells her soft fur, then grows cold.

"This isn't a time for cuddles and kisses, cutie pie," he says. Susan backs off with a sniff.

"I’m waiting, Susan."

"He thinks his father was murdered by family members," she says.

"The ones still living in the von Dyck mansion?" he asks.

"He wants revenge and he wants the von Dyck mansion for his new headquarters."

"Lenny, get me out of here. Can't you do anything?"

"Right now, I’ve got a forest fire. I can’t save every tree."

``You better come back real soon, Mr Fireman.''

O'Ryan leaves her dressing room and runs out the side exit.


*

Beautiful gardens surround the Wainer mansion. Below a balcony, Sally, a graceful Basenji, heads towards a back door.

In the mansion's library, Penworth, a Welsh Corgi, enters with a serving tray, accompanied by Detective O'Ryan.

"Mister Wainer, Detective O'Ryan is here," Penworth announces. Penworth serves Bucky Wainer, a black French Bulldog, and Skip Foxman, a Smooth Fox Terrier, drink bowls.

"I saw you called and came right over," O'Ryan says.

Bucky looks at Skip. "Mr Foxman, head of Wainer Research, detected a break-in."

"Some chemical formulas from a compromised computer server were stolen," Foxman says.

"Any suspects?" O'Ryan asks.

"A hacker leaves paw prints on the computers they break into. Not real ones, of course, just little tell-tale signs that enable investigators to distinguish one hacker from another. This one has the pianist's paw prints all over it," Foxman says.

"Frita?"

YAP! "Sorry, I mean yep," Foxman nods.



*


Molina and Alton escort Rubberneck though the bullpen. Alton nips Rubberneck. "Rubber?" Alton asks. "I felt it," Rubberneck whines. and pushes him. "Move it. Back to your cell, Rubberneck and shut your yap."

Alton's cell-phone rings and he looks at the number. "Sorry Molina, I gotta take this. My kid was sick this morning."

"Go, Alton! Catch up with me when you can. I got this," Molina says with a snarling smile.

Alton leaves. Rubberneck and Molina walk through the rows of desks. She spots a phonebook on the desk of Detective Winona Eppie, West Highland White Terrier Molina passes Eppie's desk as she's questioning a Pekingese suspected of perpetrating a purse pick-pocketing.

"How are the kids, girlfriend?" Molina asks Eppie. Eppie drops a pen on the floor and leans over to pick it up. Out of nowhere, Rubberneck pulls out a knife. Molina picks up the phonebook and slams him beside the head, who, now dazed, drops the knife.

Eppie sits up, pen in hand, not seeing a thing. "Good. My littlest just started kindergarden."

Molina pockets the knife and tosses the phonebook to Eppie. "Phonebook fell. Is it time for indergarden already? I see a proud mommy!"

"That I am. Thanks, Molina. Be good now."

"I'm good, when I'm real good, I'm bad." They laugh. Molina pushes Rubberneck along.






Molina, with Rubberneck, walks up to the burly jailhouse guard, Tommy Teagle a Beagle mix, at the cellblock entrance. After he buzzes her in, she looks back to the guard.

"Lockberg wants to see you. Now, Teagle," Molina says. Doors slam behind Molina and Rubberneck. Teagle woofs, puts his night-stick on his table and trots out.

Right away, the inmates start with the hooting and cat-calls. Molina picks up the night-stick. The more Molina swaggers the worst the jeers get. After a dozen yards, she slams Rubberneck over the head with it, knocking him against the bars of a cell. That left a mark.

"In there," Molina barks. She points to his cell. Rubberneck enters, a dent in his head turning into a growing red bump. He moans. The cell door slams shuts.Molina looks at the other inmates. "Which one of you bitches wants it next?"

She walks over to the biggest and baddest of them all, Kurly, a King-Kong sized Komondor mix. "You, Kurly?" Kurly growls. Molina throws the knife into his leg so hard it disappears. Kurly yowls, drops to his side, and howls. She opens his cell door. "Those howls had better be dog-damned prayers. I have questions about the von Dyck mansion murder and you’d better have my answers."





Alton and Molina stands at the rim of a huge pool of bloody water. Well-lit from below, we can see three large sharks. Kurly stands cuffed by the edge of the pool. Rubberneck the Dachshund is beside him, shivering. "Why do you have a shark tank inside a jail?" Rubberneck asks.

"That's for the good dogs to know and the bad dogs to fine out," Alton barks.

Molina yanks on Kurly's fur. "Sharks love Komondors."

"What do you want, Molina?" Kurly asks.

"Do you know how long it takes for three freshwater bull sharks to eat a full-grown Komondor?" Molina asks. Kurly shakes his whole body.

"Rubberneck, do you know?" Molina asks.

"I don't know nothing," he whines.

Molina smiles invitingly, softly stroking Kurly's thick, curly hair. "Not even a guess?"

"Thirty minutes?" Kurly guesses.

Molina nods to Alton. He barks, grabs Rubberneck, who starts yapping loudly, and tosses him into the pool. The sharks get busy.

"Even a shark's gotta eat. Oh, they're hungry. Let's time it." Molina looks at Kurly, smiles coldly, then at her wrist watch. "He must be tough, they're still chewing," Alton says.
Rubberneck's painful YIPES! echo the walls. "They're just chewing," Kurly says.

"You're next, Kurly," Molina says, "unless you talk." Molina starts to push him into the pool.

"Stay away from the chew toy --" ACCKK! Kurly drops dead of a heart attack, right on Alton's front paw. Alton checks Kurly's pulse. "He's dead," Alton says.

"We've learned two valuable lessons today, Alton. First, the bigger they are, the harder they fall." Molina nods to Alton's sore paw. "Second, it takes at least three minutes for three freshwater bull sharks to eat a full-grown Dachshund," Molina says, checking her watch.

Alton peeks into the pool. "I think they're still chewing," Alton says.


*


The sun shines over a large grassy lawn in front of the von Dyck mansion.

Ivan silently slinks up to the front of the van Dahl mansion, with a letter in his teeth. He checks his watch and places a letter on the welcome mat. He paws the doorbell and vanishes around the corner.

*


In Biddle's laboratory, Marco and Frita wear lab coats. "Why don't we use the poison stolen from Wainer Research? Worked like a charm last time."

"Because, I have invented the perfect poison," Marco says. "I call it Tango Powder. The victim dances the tango until they drop dead of a heart attack." Marco does a little manic happy feet tango dance then stops when Frita shakes her head, then her neck, then her body.

She's totally unimpressed, and scratches behind her ears while growling to prove it. "How about a delayed action poison in a delicious chew toy?" Frita says. "Using the poison we just stole."

Marco lays down flat, his chin on the ground, and whines.

"What will get you nowhere," Molina snaps.

*

The large dining room of the von Dyck mansion is one big crime scene. Lockberg and several cops gather evidence. Shaka von Dyck, the Australian Silky Terrier, collapsed dead in her chair at one end of a long dining table. Molina and Alton, question Shaka's brother Carl and mother Gloria at the other end.

"When did she collapse?" Lockberg asks.

"Shaka collapsed right after dinner. Was it something she ate?"

"The victim has partially eaten asparagus on her plate," Alton says.

Lockberg absent-mindedly scratches behind his ear. Molina snaps at an imaginary bug in the air. "Did you eat the asparagus?" Lockberg asks Gloria.

"No, I gave mine to Shaka. She loved asparagus so much!" Mrs von Dyck starts to cry. Alton gives her a tissue. "What about you?" Alton asks Carl.

"I gave mine to Shaka as well. I hate asparagus," Carl says.

"I don't believe this guy," Molina whispers to Lockberg, eyeing Carl.

"What did Kurly tell you? I mean, before his heart attack in jail?" Lockberg asks Molina.

"He said don't touch the von Dyck’s chew toys," Molina says. Molina flips on her back.

"I'm not giving you a tummy rub, Molina," Lockberg says.

Molina barks at Carl. "Me neither," Carl says to Molina. Molina flips back on her feet and growls at Carl. "Did you kill her?" Lockberg barks at him.

"I swear didn't kill my sister," Carl whines. Carl grabs a chew toy. "That's mine!" Gloria von Dyck whines. They fight over the chew toy, growling, snarling and biting. Mrs von Dyck wins.

"Eat the asparagus then, Carl von Dyck!" Lockberg barks.

"I want my lawyer!" Carl howls. Lockberg and the other dog cops exchange yeah-they’re-guilty looks. Then .. AACCKK! Mrs von Dyck and Carl both gasp for breath, then collapse, dead.

Molina breaks the stunned silence from the dog cops. "Maybe they are innocent after all?"

"Bag that chew toy," Lockberg growls, "and let's get Biddel."

*

Lockberg, Molina, Alton and O'Ryan burst into at the Opera Center's rehearsal room, barking excitedly. Mr Biddel is listening to his musical trio playing jazz. The musicians stop.

"You're all under arrest," O'Ryan barks.

"We know how you poisoned your family, Biddel," Lockberg barks. He cuffs Biddel.

"We've got proof you stole the poison used from Wainer Labs, Frita," Molina growls. She cuffs Frita.

Ivan and Marco drop their instruments and run. Alton collars them both. O'Ryan cuffs Marco while Alton cuffs Ivan.

RING! O'Ryan checks his cell-phone. "I gotta take this" He answers his phone. "Susan, you okay? ... Good, tonight? Yeah. Can I call you right back? I've got my paws full. ... Two large dog bones and a gallon of toilet water? ... Okay!" O'Ryan hangs up.

"You lucky dog," Alton says. O'Ryan tries to hide an embarrassed smile.

"You bad dogs aren't so lucky," O'Ryan says to Biddle and his pack. "Bad dog!" Molina adds. Then she snaps at an imaginary fly in the room.

"But think of the bright side, you'll play all the music you like, in the Dogsville Cellblocks," O'Ryan growls.

Biddel and his cronies all howl to the moon.

You don't know Jack (short story 18)

Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.

This story was inspired by the Jack in the Beanstalk fable.

*

Sometime in the not-too-distant future.

In a typical suburban neighborhood, 30-year old Molly Spriggins lays on the couch in her living room with a damp cloth on her head, wearing slippers, loose-fitting clothes and a sweater. Her 14-year old son Jack, wearing jeans and a t-shirt that says "Code Monkey," sits on the couch by her feet while he types on a laptop. Except for an Einstein poster, several Rubik's cubes, and stacks of books on tables, the room is sparsely furnished.

Jack surfs to news.com and reads an article online.

Chairman and CEO Lawrence Giant of MegaPharma announces a free distribution of their cancer drug freelapine via a lottery system. "Normally, this drug is prohibitively expensive for low-income patients, but with these free doses, we hope to save even more lives," Lawrence Giant says.

"Mom, did you hear you get a year of this cancer drug for free if you are selected by the MegaPharma lottery system?" Jack asks.

"Forget the lottery. I’m more worried about affording new brakes for the car," she says.

"These are the last two." Jack brings her two pills and a glass of water. "Something will pop up. We’ll be okay."

``If I sell the car, I can afford more meds."

"I think Mrs Biggs is looking for a car. She’s the lady who ran the NSA summer computer camp."

"Give her a call."

Jack picks up the portable phone on the table, dials a number, listens for a dial tone, and punches in an extra code before speaking. "Mrs Biggs, this is Jack. ... No, she’s not doing well ..." Jack says as he walks to his bedroom, continuing his phone conversation.

*

Jack enters the living room smiling and holding a USB stick in his hand.

 Molly's lying down on couch holding a photo. Her face is white and her eyes are puffy. "Do you remember this photo, Jack?" Jack walks over and kneels down near his Mom. "You were seven. You were so proud of your new bike. What ever happened to it?" she asks.

"Remember the ad 'Used bike for sale by owner. Lightweight chromoly frame.', Mom? You and Dad divorced that week. He sold the bike." Jack looks down and fiddles with the USB stick in his hand.

"I didn't about that. I'm sorry. A lot of things ere going on then," she says.

"Don't worry about it."

"Did you sell the car? What do you have there?" she asks.

"Some scripts, some computer programs. These are almost like magic, so rad."

"Can you magically turn that program into money?"

"No. These'll help me get to places on the internet I need to go."

"Oh Jack, what have you done? You spend too much time already on the internet. Now you’ve thrown away the only thing of value I owned. Go to your room, leave me alone."

Jack leaves, dejected.

*

The MegaPharma building is a concrete and steel monstrosity with a giant MR logo on the side of the top floor. CEO Lawrence Grant, dressed in an expensive suit, is alone, looking at his computer screen in his office. His phone rings. He snaps it up.

"Mr Chen! How are you?" Grant taps nervously with his pen. "No, that was not our agreement and you know it. We agreed to the price-fixing scheme in those markets provided you undercut Fipzer’s and Smerck’s prices world-wide in penicillin."

Jill, a high-school intern wearing a cute dress and blouse, enters his office and places some folders on his desk. "The folders you requested, Mr Grant." Grant ignores her but looks at the folders. Jill leaves.

"No, I don’t give one rat’s ass how you do it. ... What? You want IPO stock? Not for sale. Cancer drugs? I’ll rig the lottery. okay? Two million. Yep. Bye."

*

Jack's bedroom is a computer nerd's paradise. "The Matrix" posters, robot and computer parts, an unused monitor and a laptop decorate the space. Jack enters, ignores all this and logs into his laptop. His cell buzzes with a text from his friend Jill.

Jill: Rumor is megapharma rigs their lottery.

Jack types a reply.

Jack: How do you know that?

There's no reply. He plugs the "magic" USB stick into his laptop they types some more. He reads on the screen:

"Welcome to the megapharma.com internet site. Violators will be punished to the fullest extent of the law."

"Yada yada yada," Jack says. He starts up Freecell, a solitaire card game, running on the megapharma.com server. It opens in a new pop-up window with cards displayed in several stacks. He clicks on the "Help" tab and, instead of a help drop-down menu, a new white on back window with a command-line interface opens. He types some commands in the interface.

Jack picks up his cellphone and dials a number, "Jill, can you talk?"

Jill sits in her cubical in the MegaPharma Corporate HQ. "Not now, I’m at work. I'll call you later."

"Wait, where did you hear that rumor?"

"Later. How's your Mom?"

"Not good. On you way home, can you pick up her cancer pills at the pharmacy and drop them off?"

Sure, my shift's over soon."

"Thanks, see you soon." Jack hangs up.

On his laptop, a pop-up window asks

"Chat with admin? Click: yes or no."

"What the hell." Jack clicks on yes.

Chat client: Who are you?

Jack: U 1st.

Chat client: Computer security at megamed.com. Your intrusion has been logged.

Jack: log it d00d

Chat client: You are playing free-cell. That is unauthorized. What is your employee ID?

Jack: I'm Jack Schitt. You really don’t know me?

Jack laughs. "I crack myself up."

Chat client: Your session is terminated.

The chat session closes and Jack’s login is cut off.

"I'm going to guess Lawrence Giant runs his own domain. I’ve got one more script." Jack types on his laptop again. With a DING! a message pops up on his screen.

"Welcome to the giant.megapharma.com intranet site. Violators will be punished to the fullest extent of the law."
"I’m just going to wget it all," Jack says. He types more on his laptop.

Jack hears his Mom groan in pain. Jack looks at the progress bar on his laptop screen: 2%. He stands up and goes to the living room.


*

Ignoring his expansive view of the city skyline, Giant frowns at his computer screen, punching his keyboard with his fingers in frustration. He picks up the phone on his desk and punches in a number. "Computer security? What the hell is going on? My computer's dead. ... You `have him?' Who is `him?' ... You know who did this? Meet me in the parking lot. I want to see this man arrested with my own eyes," Giant says.


*

Mom lies on couch. Jack enters. "Feeling any better, Mom?"

She reaches out towards the table. "My pills." Jack hands her a bottle and a glass of water.

"I’m getting you more medicine soon. You're going to be okay."

"Jack, if I don’t make it I want you to make up with your father."

"No."

"Don't argue. He'll give you a good life."

"You'll make it."

"You talked about going somewhere ... on the internet."

"I’m back. It's be finished soon." Jack holds her hand.

"What's are you talking --" BANG, BANG. There is a loud knocking at the door. "Who could that be?"

Jack goes over and opens the door. Giant and a uniformed MegaPharma security officer barge in.

"What do you want?" Molly asks.

Giant points at Jack. "Jack! I am very disappointed in you."

"Well Dad, maybe you can imagine how I feel," Jack snaps back.

"Don’t you talk to me like that!" Grant yells.

"Larry, get out of my house!" She tries to get up, coughs.

"Molly, I'm warning you, back off." Grant points to Jack. "Arrest him!" Giant barks to his security officer.

"No, stop. Both of you, get out!" Molly says.

"Mom, you need to lie down. I’ll get your medicine."

"You can’t afford medicine for her. Admit it, you stole it!" Giant says.

"How does someone become like you? I want to know so it never happens to me," Jack yells.

"Your Mother's turned you against me. It's all her fault."

"The lottery you rigged is her fault too, I suppose," Jack says.

Giant turns to his security man. "Don't just stand there, arrest them both!"

BANG, BANG! There is another knock. "Oh, what now? Come in!" Molly yells.

Mrs Biggs, a middle-aged woman in a business suit, enters. She flashes a badge, mostly for the benefit of the MegaPharma security officer. "Thank you, Mrs Spriggins. My name is Biggs, NSA security. Who are you?"

"Lawrence Giant, CEO of MegaPharma --"

"Not you. I recognize you, Mr Giant, I meant you," Mrs Biggs says, looking at the security officer.

"This is Mr Kanfield, the head of security at MegaPharma," Giant says.

Biggs nods at them and turns to face Jack. "Jack, I believe you have something for me."

"It’s in my room."

"Get it. And the stick."

Jack goes to his room, sees the progress bar is now at 100%. He picks up the laptop, with the USB stick still inserted into it.

"You want to arrest your own son, Larry?" Molly asks Giant.

"Oh, like everything is my fault!"

"You really don’t know Jack, do you?"

Jack returns with his laptop. Giant indicates to his security man to take the laptop. Biggs elbows them both aside and Jack hands the laptop to her. "I didn’t mess with the stick."

"Still with the original scripts, not transferred or copied anywhere?" Biggs asks.

Jack nods. "Correct."

"Good. Thank you Jack. That is the evidence we need. We’ll handle it from here."

"Jack, what is going on?" Molly asks.

Biggs walks a few steps to address Giant and his security man. Biggs flashes a phony smile at Giant. "Mr Giant, I've heard so much about you!" Giant beams and self-consciously adjusts his suit and tie. "Could I look at your ID?" Mrs Biggs asks.

"I’m happy to oblige," Giants says. Giant fishes out his ID with a smile and hands it to Biggs. Giant is about to say something but Biggs interrupts him. "And yours, officer?" Biggs asks the MegaPharma security officer. She checks them both carefully and returns them with a smile.

"Excuse me, Agent, or Mrs Biggs, we were going to arrest this young man for computer intrusion --" Giant says.

Biggs smirks and pulls out her cellphone and punches a number. "When you say 'We', you mean you two?"

Giant nods.

"They’re here. ... Understood," Biggs says into her cell phone. She hangs up and pockets it.

"Well, is someone coming to make an arrest?" Giant asks.

"Be patient, an arrest warrant has been issued," Biggs says.

Giant faces his security officer. "It’s about time." His nervous security officer wipes a bead of sweat from his brow. Biggs walks to the door frame and turns.

Giant looks sternly at Jack. "Jack, did you hear that? Arrest warrants are issued. The long arm of the law is about to teach you a lesson the hard way. Next time I see you and you Mom --"

Wearing an FBI windbreaker, an FBI agent comes in the front door, with a piece of paper. He enters but does not knock. "Agent Thompson," he says as he enters.

Biggs nods to Giant. "Mr Giant, you are under arrest for corporate fraud."

Giant points at Jack. "What, me?! What about him?"

The FBI agent cuffs Giant’s arms behind him. "You means, Agent Spriggins?" As he leads Giant out the front door, he says rhetorically "You really don’t know Jack, do you?"

Jill comes to the front door. She knocks politely and waits at the door. "Come in, Jill dear," Molly says, then starts a coughing fit..

"Hi Jill," Jack says. Molly stops coughing. Jill walks over and kisses Jack’s Mom hello.

"I have the medicine," Jill says. Jill gives Molly a bottle of water and a pill bottle. Then Jill fusses with Molly's blanket and pillow.

"You must be a very proud Mom, Mrs Spriggins. Here." Biggs hands Molly a set of car keys. "Jack told me you were ill and it needed repair," Biggs says.

"Oh my! Jack never told me.... " Molly says, almost in tears.

"Well. you know Jack ..." Mrs Biggs says with a smile.

The Thorium Solution (short story 17)

Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.

The story below was inspired by the show The Simpsons. I'm a fan but don't watch the show regularly. After drafting the story idea, I was curious if it had been done before, since there are so many episodes. Actually, I did a lot of "research" (it was so hard:-) on the show, trying to see if Lisa ever made something like like Selena does in my story. In fact, I think there's one episode of The Simpsons where she made a nuclear reactor in her basement. Still, I think there's enough difference to make my plot interesting and not seem like a remix of that episode. To be safe, I changed the names to avoid getting sued, du'oh:-)

*
The setting sun casts an orange glow over the Summersville Research Labs.

Inside, in the SRL break room, Diego Dingman, his friends Anton Antovski and Rav Ravachan, and two plant workers, eat donuts at a table in the windowless break room, with the TV on. Lockers on one side, a microwave on the other. Anton Antovski pushes aside a folder crammed with papers to snag the last donut. It has sprinkles on top.

"Wait, a fancy one! I wanted that," Diego says.

"Too slow, Diego. You're so slow that uranium's half-life seems like a light year," Anton says. The Plant Workers laugh.

"I am not! What's a half-life, Rav?"

"It's about five billion donut years," Rav says with a laugh.

"Come on, Anton, why not cut that fancy donut in half and give me some?" Diego asks.

"But what about me?" Rav asks.

"Forget it, both of you. I'm eating the whole thing myself. You can have this though, Diego." Anton pushes a file folder toward Diego and bites into the donuts.

"This had better be a donut recipe," Diego says, flipping through the file.

On the TV screen a news announcer says ``Scientists have discovered an area of the brain in young teenage boys that makes them lazy and unmotivated.'' The TV shows scenes of tennage boys lying on a couch playing video games and eating pizza.

"It’s top secret," Anton says.

Rav points to the TV. "Shush, I want to listen to this."

"Wow, a top secret recipe for donuts," Diego says, suddenly interested.

The TV news announcer continues, "Here’s Professor John Frink to explain this new finding."

The TV shows a graphic of the brain while Prof. Frink provides a voice-over. "A small part of the pituitary gland activated among young teenage boys which blocks their interest in worthwhile activities." The TV shows teen-age boys goofing off superimposed over an animated small pulsating brain. When radiation rays hit them, the junk food and video games dissolve and the brain grows to normal size. "My research has shown that this area of the brain is destroyed by a short exposure to thorium-based nuclear radiation."

"It’s not about donuts. Those are incomplete plans for a Thorium-based Reactor Drive. Even Professor Frink can't figure it out," Anton says.

"Thorium? Must be a new ingredient for donuts." Diego is too focused on the TV to pay attention to Anton.

On TV Prof Frink says, "I wish I could figure it out."

"Figure that out and Mister Teller will give you a bonus," Rav says.

Diego daydreams of himself alone in the break room surrounded by kegs of beer and stacks of fancy donuts. "Which means more beer and donuts." The plant workers laugh. Diego's reverie vanishes in a puff.

"You think you can do that, Diego?" Anton asks. "If it were easy Diego, I'd get that bonus myself."

"Good luck with it, Diego," says Rav.

"I’ll give it to Selena as a little homework assignment from Daddy. Hee, hee," Diego says.

"Whoa. That's not fair!" Rav says.

"Using Selena - why, that's cheating!" Anton says.

"We'll see who ends up with more donuts now," Diego says.

Anton Antovski finishes the donut and the clock strikes 5:00PM. A whistle goes off. "Who wants to go to Moe's?" Rav says. Rav and Anton and Plant Workers disappear out the door.

Diego puts the file in his lunch pail and clocks out.

*

The setting sun casts a radiant glow over Diego Dingman's street. The Family Sedan pulls into Diego's driveway.

In son Enzo's bedroom, sisters Selena and baby Maggie watch Enzo build a plastic model car, which drips with glue.

"That looks awful," Selena says.

"That's because you're a stupid girl. You couldn't build a model anything," Enzo snaps.

The front door slams. "Hi home, I'm honey," Diego calls out.

Selena leaves Enzo's bedroom. Maggie sucks on her pacifier, watching Enzo make a mess.

Selena runs down the stairs. "Daddy!"

Diego drops his lunch pail on a table. Wife Jazmin and daughter Selena greet him. "How was work, dear?" Jazmin asks.

"Donut-wise, I did score these plans for a model Thorium Reactor," Diego says. "Thorium is a new ingredient for cooking better donuts, but it's top secret."

"Diego, when are you going to buy me the new stove you promised me?" Jazmin asks.

"Did I promise you that?" Diego asks.

Jazmin remembers: Diego carried her honeymoon-style into the kitchen. "Our new home! We need a new stove," she said long ago. "I promise to buy my honey bunny a new stove," Diego answered.

Diego remembers it slightly differently: he and Jazmin walked into their new, bare kitchen. "Our new home! We need a new stove," she said. "Where’s the beer?" he asked.

Diego brightens. "Don't you worry. A little bird tells me I’m going to be getting a bonus at work soon. Did you finish your homework, Selena?"

"Of course."

"Daddy brought you home a little model to build, my little sparrow. Isn't that nice?" Diego hands Selena the file marked 'Classified.'

"Can we build it together?" Selena asks.

"You betcha, hee, hee. And don’t you forget, you can build whatever you set your mind to, especially if it's a top secret donut maker," Diego says.

Selena flips through the folder, reading the technical specifications. "Are you sure this is a donut maker, Daddy?"

"Speaking of donuts, it's almost dinner-time. How about you, I mean we, work on this after dinner?"

"Max’s mom and I are in a cooking competition, Real Homemakers of Summersville. I’m serving my first assignment tonight, Spinach Summersville," Jazmin says.

"Spinach? I can hardly wait for dessert, hee, hee," Diego says.

"Diego, go wash up. Dinner’s almost ready," Jazmin orders.


*

The Dingman’s, including son Enzo, are all at the dining room table with their mostly empty plate of food. Diego takes his plate to the kitchen. He has not eaten the spinach portion.

Diego puts his plate down before his sleeping dog, Out Damned Spot. A tendril of odor from the food slinks up like a translucent snake, wraps itself around Out Damned Spot’s nose and then makes a fist and punches it. Out Damned Spot wakes with a "Yipe!" and runs out with his tail between his legs. The odor snake follows Out Damned Spot as it disappears around the corner.

Enzo grabs his back-pack and goes to the front door in the living room. Diego enters the living room from the kitchen.

"Where are you going, son?" Jazmin asks.

"I’m going to study geometry with Max," Enzo says.

"Max, who beat up your friend Ralph last week?" she asks.

"I'm not afraid of him. The bigger they are, the harder they fall." Enzo starts to sweat.

"You hate math, Enzo. The truth," Selena demands.

"Max told me to tell you that or he'd pulverize me. Actually, he's going to beat me up for not paying him fifty cents today at lunch." Enzo wipes sweat away form his brow.

Jazmin goes to clean the dinner dishes from the table. "Enzo, you didn’t finish your dinner. How are you going to have the energy to study geometry without eating your spinach?"

"Max will yank my stomach inside out."

"That is mathematically impossible," Selena says.

"My mother always said no horse play after dinner, and we didn't even own any horses," Diego says.

"Enzo, you’re not hungry because you ate your dessert first. Be good and don’t stay out too late," Jazmin says.

Diego puts papers from the Thorium Reactor file folder on the dining room table. "Selena, ready to make my model? I mean our model, hee, hee."

Enzo exits.

"I wonder if Pamela would like my Spinach Summersville?"



*

The sun's low on the horizon as Enzo walks on the sideway near his house. He daydreams that he pulls a huge club from his small backpack. He smiles. "See, hee." Then the club vanishes.

Further down the street, Enzo daydreams that he rides a WWII tank down the street. "Check me out, Max! Ha, ha!" The tank vanishes.

In the grass yard front of Max’s house, Enzo daydreams that he commands a full scale version of the ship he built, complete with globs of glue. He uses a joy-stick to aim the huge cannons. "Max, you can surrender, but kiss my butt first!" The ship vanishes.

Max Palmer pushes Enzo down into the grass. "What did you say to me?"


*

The baby Maggie sucks on her pacifier in her crib set up in the living room. Out Damned Spot looks at her pacifier hungrily. She looks on as Diego and Selena study the papers for the thorium-based nuclear reactor.

Diego puts on his glasses and daydreams of complicated mathematical equations that come alive from the papers and float in a donut-shaped cloud in the air around them. Selena daydreams of an ornately decorated pink and powder blue thorium-based nuclear power plant floating on a puffy cloud above them. The clouds vanish in a puff.

"If I’m going to look at math problems, I need coffee. And when I say coffee, I mean beer," Diego says as he goes into the kitchen.


*


A crowd of kids has gathered on Max's front yard, including Waldo Wiggum. Waldo has a pee stain on his pants. "Don't hit me! My Daddy's coming soon!" Waldo pleads.

"Did you pee your pants, Waldo?" Enzo asks.

"Don’t change the topic. Did you bring me my money?" Max asks Enzo.

"I don’t have any," Enzo says. So Max picks up Enzo by the collar and prepares to punch him.

A police car pulls up, with Chief Clayton Wiggum in the driver’s seat. "Son, I told you not to drain the lizard in your pants. Get in the car. You’re in a heap of trouble, boy," the Chief orders.

Waldo gets in the back seat. "On the plastic. On the plastic." Waldo moves over to sit on the plastic sheet and the police car ROARS off.

"Urine trouble. Get it?" Enzo says.

"Depends. Get it?" Max says.

"Diaper joke. So funny I forgot to laugh."

"Get ready to get punched so hard you’ll wish you were wearing them."

Jazmin, with a plate of Spinach Surprise, appears on the sidewalk in front of Max’s house. "Max! Go get your Mom."

Max pushes Enzo down. "Sit. Stay." Max goes inside.

"Chicken! Hah, hah," Enzo calls after him.

"Come here, Enzo," Jazmin says. Enzo runs over to his mom. "Didn’t your father tell you not to rough-house?"

"Why are you here, Mom? I was about to kick his butt."

"It’s part of the cooking class we’re in. She’s my competition partner."

Max and Pamela Palmer come out of their house. Pamela has a plate of food in her hands.

Spaghetti western music plays out of a forgotten Sergio Leone film.

"Jazmin." Pamela squints.

"Pamela." Jazmin squints. They each nod.

Jazmin hands her plate to Enzo. Pamela hands hers to Max. Max and Enzo march and meet at the midpoint, trade plates, and march back, their pace timed to the music. Jazmin takes the plate from Enzo. Pamela takes the plate from Max.

"You first, Jazmin." Pamela squints.

"We’ll taste at the same time, Pamela. At the count of three." Jazmin squints.

"Uno. Dos. Tres!" Max counts. Simultaneously, Jazmin and Pamela take a spoonful from the plate and eat it. Jazmin rolls it in her mouth and GULPS. Pamela chews and GULPS.

"Too much paprika," Pamela says.

"Too much sage," Jazmin says.

Max clenches his fist and glares at Enzo.

"But I liked the sauce," Pamela says.

"I liked the texture. See you in class later?" Jazmin asks.

"Okay! Take it back, Max." Pamela hands hers to Max.

Jazmin hands her plate to Enzo. Max and Enzo march and meet at the midpoint, then trade plates, to the music's finale. "Till next time, Enzo, when I bash your face in."


*


In his living room, Diego drinks a beer while Selena, a notebook open on the table, covers the dining room walls with complicated mathematical equations. Maggie sucks her pacifier and gestures like she understands what is going on.

"If I could only figure out how to compute that stupid integral," Selena says.

"Gah! Ppfftthh! Bbrraaaarb!" Maggie replies.

Selena points to math equation 1 and math equation 2. "Plug this equation into that one?"

"Aaaggghhh! Yyyaaahhh!" says Maggie. Out Damned Spot barks.

"You understand her baby talk?" Diego asks Selena.

"Now, I see. Of course." Selena scribbles another complicated mathematical equation, obtained by plugging math equation 1 into math equation 2. Then she draws complicated diagrams in her notebook.

"What have I created? A Franken-Einstein of Donutology?" Diego says.

Selena takes her notebook and walks into the kitchen. The counter is full of new kitchen appliances. Diego follows her. "Will Mom let me borrow the new kitchen appliances she bought for her cooking competition?" she asks.

"For my little donut genius, of course she will!"

Selena, in fast motion, disassembles one appliance. Mathematical equations fly from the notebook floating around Selena’s head. "I just change the wiring in this ..." Selena disassembles another appliance "... and wire it to this."

"I’m getting dizzy just watching you."

Selena, still in fast motion, zips from one machine to another, connecting and disconnecting circuits and wires.

A math equation morphs into an eel-ish equation with teeth that bites Diego. "Yiiieee! Math hurts," Diego yells as he runs out. Out Damned Spot follows him, yiping.

Enzo and Jazmin enter the living room and slam the front door behind them.

"I’m hungry!" Enzo says.

"There’s left-over broccoli," Jazmin says.

"Goody, barffoli, I mean that’s barf-tastic, I mean barf-ilicious."

Selena, now in real time, plugs wires into disassembled kitchen appliances. " ... and the circuits in that \dots and hook these together." The kitchen begins to glow a greenish hue.

Jazmin, Diego, and Enzo enter the kitchen together. Jazmin picks up Maggie. "Gaaaahhh!"

"Mother, Father, if you don’t mind, I’d like to mow the lawn before going to my bedroom to do my homework," Enzo says, his eyes staring robotically into space.

"Enzo, pretending to be polite doesn’t mean you can have a beer. I’m not falling for that again!" Diego says.

"Okay, Enzo," Jazmin says.

Enzo exits.

"That was weird," Selena says.

"Don’t try to snap him out of it until he finishes mowing the lawn, "Diego says. Lawn mower starts outside. Diego and Jazmin look wide-eyed at each other.

"Is my kitchen glowing?" Jazmin asks.

"Selena is, errr, fixing your kitchen appliances so, errr, you can win that cooking competition, hee, hee," Diego says, starting to sweat.

"It’s too late for that now. My final project is a casserole. Just get it out of the fridge. I don’t want to be late to class. I'll discuss this mess when I get back."


*


The classroom has a blackboard on one end of the room and a fully functional kitchen on the other. Cooking students, including Pamela Palmer, are gathered around a kitchen island, headed by the Instructor Leary, in a white chef’s hat.

Instructor Leary ogles Pamela. "Mrs Palmer I like the way you’ve spiced up your lasagna. What’s that aroma?"

"Oil of Joey. It’s Matt Lablanc’s cinnamonny cologne."

"I love cinnamon! You’re so clever."

Jazmin enters with a casserole dish emanating a green glow. Immediately on seeing it, Instructor Leary’s eyes turn to robotic stares and he stands up straight.

"Students, gather around, class is starting and your final exam is today! The best dishes pass and the others fail," Leary says.

"What, no letter grade?" a student asks.

"Yes, there are letter grades. A and F. Those are your letters. Jazmin Dingman, you are first."

Jazmin takes the lid off her casserole dish and it glows even brighter green.

"Too green for lasagna. Don’t use so much food coloring. F minus! Next, Pamela Palmer," Leary barks.

Pamela takes the lid off her lasagna dish. Cooking Instructor tastes it and his eyes water. "Wow, that’s spicy! And, with a hint of cinnamon. A plus!" Pamela gives Jazmin a sideways glance and a smile.

Jazmin storms out.


*


The kitchen, with Selena and Diego in front of some kitchen appliances strung together with wires and switches, glows green.

Jazmin enters. "What is going on here?"

"Jazmin! Hee, hee. How’s my Betty Crocker? I’ll bet you won your competition hands down. You’re the best cook ever."

"I’d like to Crocker you over the head! My food was glowing green! He gave me an F!"

"What’s wrong with a little green? I like green."

"Green {\it lasagna}? Tell me, what’s going on?"

"Look at what Selena made. Tell your Mom all about it, Selena."

``Mom, it’s a fully functional thorium-based nuclear reactor."

"With brains like that, you'll win a Nobel Prize for Donutology one day," Diego says, beaming at Selena proudly.

"Do you mean Physics?" Selena asks.

"Is there a difference?"

"Never mind that. Look at what you’ve done to my kitchen," Jazmin complains.

"But it’s thorium-based, Mom. No more weapons-grade radioactive byproducts."

"Which makes for better donuts, I assume?"

"For better world peace. It won’t make donuts," Selena says.

"Whirled peas but no donuts? Oh well, maybe Mister Teller will like it."

"Meanwhile, my appliances are glowing green," Jazmin complains.

"I'll put them in the car."

"I'll help. Do you think it could make the family car go faster?" Selena asks.


*

In Mr Teller’s office on the top floor of the Summerville Power Plant, Diego, Mr Teller, several high-ranking military officers (or various services, all in uniform) and defense contractors (various services, all in business suits) are gathered around Teller' desk. Elon Musk stands away, separately, smiling. The yellow rays of the morning sun add to the greenish glow of the kitchen appliances stacked on Mr Teller’s desk.

"Did someone say nuclear-powered family car?" Elon asks.

"Selena, my oldest daughter, said that last night. She’s not even here. How did you know she said that?"

"I can smell new inventions from miles away. I can hear them from hundreds," Elon says. The others laugh. "No, seriously. It’s a blessing and a curse," Elon says. Everyone in the room turns to look at Elon Musk. "Okay, it's more of a blessing. This nuclear reactor is your daughters'?"

"Selena’s as good at math as I am at eating donuts," Diego says.

"Which puts her in the math super-genius category," says Mr Teller.

"Would she like to be vice president in charge of research at Tesla Motors?" Elon asks.

"What's the starting salary for an eight year old?"

"Foiled by government regulations again," Elon says.

"What does this do?" one defense contractor says.

"Selena said it’s a fully functional thorium-based nuclear reactor. I'm sorry, it doesn't make donuts," Diego says.

"We already have uranium-based nuclear reactors, and they yield weapon grade plutonium as an output. Who needs this?" another defense contractor asks.

All the military officers join in one load "Harumpphh!"

"She says the advantage to this one is whirled peas, but I don't like peas. Do you?" Diego asks.

"Do you mean world peace?" Elon asks.

"Could be," Diego admits.

In the back-and-forth below, the military officers' heads swing back-and-forth from Diego to the Defense Contractors. "Okay, peas or peace or whatever. Wonderful. At which point is our profit margin increased?" another defense contractor asks, with a good deal of sarcasm.

"Selena said world peace is a good thing. Isn’t it good to be saving more lives?" Diego asks.

"Selena’s a smart girl," Elon says.

"Excuse me. We’re talking about money and you keep changing the topic. Sorry, can we back up here? I’d like to start again. Who gets rich in this? How do we make more money from this?" a third defense contractor asks.

"I don’t know."

A military officer clears his throat. "Weren’t those plans top secret?"

The other military officers utter a collective "Harumpphh!"

"But I thought they were for a donut machine," Diego pleads.

"We can’t arrest his daughter, she’s too young," another military officer says.

"Foiled by government regulations again," complains a fourth defense contractor.

"We’ll confiscate your model. No charges filed," says a fifth defense contractor.

"It's in my kitchen. I'm warning you, my wife doesn’t like people fiddling with her appliances," Diego warns.

"We’ll replace them all. Free," says a sixth defense contractor.

"New appliances? Does that include a free donut-maker?" Diego asks.

The defense contractors nod yes.

"Ca-ching!" Diego says with a smile.



*

A dozen Jeeps and SUVs pull up and park in front of Diego’s house, each carrying military officers and defense contractors. Enzo washes the Family Sedan in the driveway with a large sponge and towel.

Inside, the yellow rays of the morning sun through the kitchen window add to the greenish glow of the kitchen counter. In single file, the military officers and defense contractors each take away a glowing kitchen appliance, and the next in line replaces it with a spanking new one. They leave in single file, interleaving with those coming into the kitchen.

Jazmin looks on. "What about the stove?"

"Sorry, ma’am. We can't replace that." The last of the military officers and defense contractors leave.

Through the window, Diego and Selena and Jazmin and Maggie watch the Jeeps and SUVs drive off. They see Enzo in the driveway throw down the sponge he was cleaning the car with. "What the heck am I doing?" he says.

"Mr Teller didn’t even give me a bonus," Diego complains.

"That’s okay, Daddy. It was fun making it together with you," Selena says.

"I still want a new stove, Diego."

Enzo enters, barging past Diego and Selena. "I’m so hungry I could eat pizza with broccoli toppings." Enzo goes to the kitchen. Jazmin follows him. "Poor boy, I'll fix you something."

Through the window, they see a futuristic sports car drive up. Elon Musk walks up to the front door. DING DONG! Out Damned Spot barks and runs to the door, tail wagging.

"Who's this?" Jazmin asks.

"That guy from Tesla Motors. When will he leave us alone?" Diego opens the door. "What do you want?"

"I’m Elon Musk. We met --"

"I remember."

"Pardon my intrusion, but can I speak to Selena?"

"No. As you can see, we’re very busy," Diego says. Maggie sucks on her pacifier. A bird tweets outside.

Jazmin walks up to Diego. "Don’t be rude, dear."

"I won’t take more than a five minutes. Just a quick question about Selena’s mathematical equations for the thorium-based nuclear reactor drive. I want to make a working model of a rocket car with the Selena Drive as the engine. Destination: Mars!"

"Well, I want a new stove," Diego says.

"A stove? Really? That’s all?"

"Actually, it’s for my wife, Jazmin."

"That's me," Jazmin says with a smile.

"Hello, ma'am. Understood. Will delivery tomorrow morning work for you?"

"Yes, it will."

"Selena, come here!" Diego yells. Selena comes down the stairs. "Selena, Elon Musk wants to talk to you about nuclear power. Is that okay, little sweetie?"

"Sure."

Enzo walks up. "Dude, thorium rays destroy the video-game center of the brain."

Elon Musk's eyes bulge. "You didn't mention that side affect?!"

"It slipped my mind. Ha! A little cerebellum humor there," Selena says.

"You still have time to make your escape before Selena converts your engine into a video-game brain-center death ray," Enzo says.

Elon Musk jumps into his car and rockets off.

"Just say no to thorium, Selena," Enzo says.

"Shut up, Enzo."