PARAPHILIA TRASUMANAR

“Bad news, if the dingus actually blows up, we’ll be in a whole new dimension of hurt,” Bolter added.

“Never mind about that,” drawled Billy Rai, “It’s just an effect.”

Boom-Boom’s brow crinkled. “Gelignite is one hell of an effect.”

The artist waved this aside “Don’t get hung up on details,” he demurred, “All it has to do is look dangerous.” He paused, “Intimidating is the effect we want.”

“What I didn’t realize when I wrote that damn article is how heavy one of these suitcase jobbies would be,” Caddy put in, scotch warming in his fist. He’d fetched decades’ worth of political contacts with him, going all the way back to a Rolodex boldly swiped from the desk of E. Howard Hunt. “At a minimum weight of six hundred pounds,” he pronounced, lifting a glass off his old magazine, “the prototype design we ran in the issue was more of a block-and-tackle nuke.”

Nursie’s nose twitched in disdain. “A suitcase nuke should be in a suitcase.”

“Yeah, or a briefcase, like the one the president had back in the old days,” muttered Crypto Joe, “The one with the Big Button in it. Just the thought of that shit used to work my nerves.” Joe had decided to string along on this deal even though convinced all present were gonna wind up in one of them Dixiecrat jails, like in movies he used into sneak into on 42nd Street. It beat working and the numbers Mr. Fancy Boy and his pals were talking for subsidiary rights and direct-to-hologram sales were pleasant enough to contemplate.

Billy Rai smiled and said nothing. *** Though final tests on the dingus were still incomplete, on July 8th, the following notice went out on Billy Rai’s emailZONE HAPPENING ALERT! This means you!

The gang at Fryhoff Steam Tractor Works is hosting a massively decadent FUNDRAISER for Camp Suitcase Nuke!

WE’RE GONNA ROCK THE PLAYA AT BURNING MAN 2017!

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