Menage a Trinitite
One fine summer day I stood in Memorial Park watching my friends in Amtgard, a softer-core version of the SCA, as they dashed hither and yon pummeling each other with foam-padded weapons. And what to my sight should befall but Marjorie, a nurse I knew from the gang at my favorite nightspot, Gasoline Alley.
"Richard!" she cried. "What are you doing here?"
"Well," I hedged, "a lot of these folks are friends of mine. I ran into them when I was covering a comic book convention for the station."
And so we observed.
"You don't do this yourself, do you?" she asked.
"I cannot tell a lie."
"Well, we need to do something about those clothes," she said. "Run over to Tandy Leather and buy yourself some buckskins, and we'll make you an outfit."
More bashing ensued before us.
"This could be fun," she said. "Is there something for me to do?"
"Well, they do have a wench class."
"Honey," she replied, "I don't need classes."
So that night I dropped over by my friend Roy's house. I met Roy when he came to work as a cameraman for Big 4 News; he subsequently worked for every other station in town before deciding to leave TV journalism and return to a career that would garner him better pay and more respect: teaching. But at this time he was still newshounding, and had in fact just returned from the annual tour of Trinity Site.
"Check this out," he said, showing me some pebbles of green translucent glass.
"It's called trinitite," he said. "When they exploded the big one at Trinity, it fused the sand into glass, and there's bits of this all over the place. Only occurs in one place in the world."
"Coolness," I said. "How was the trip?"
"Well, you have to drive three hours into the middle of the desert, and they make you wear this strip of film negative the whole time, but otherwise it's okay."
So later in the week I run into Marjorie at the Alley, and drop a mention of Roy's booty, which provokes great animation in her.
"I would dearly love to make a necklace out of trinitite," she said.
"Great," I said. "I'll bet it would glow in the dark. And you, too, probably."
"Well, tell him I'll bargain with him for as much as he can get me."
I get word to Roy, who tells me if any woman is interested in his booty she can deal with him directly.
Anyway, some weeks later I drop by Roy's house again and ask him what's up with the trinitite.
"Ahh, I finally threw it away," he says. "My gums were starting to bleed."
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