My Dad, he worked in a quandary in Northern Minnesota for thirty five goddamn years and never smiled except when he had the Three Stooges on Television. Oh how he loved Larry, Moe and Curly. We would just laugh it up. All seven of us.

But never a kind word to his kids. We had Mom of course. When I think about it, at 35 years of age, my mom looked fifty five. Lines on her face looked like roads to the mine up there. Deeply rutted by years of ice and snow and rain....Mom's face was rutted by loss and sadness and tears. I honestly cannot remember Dads ever taking Mom out to dinner. He would bring her a box of chocolates on Valentine's Day and her birthday never realizing that she was allergic to chocolate. Mom would simply hand out the candy while he was at work to the children.....

Sean could not stand Algernon. And since he was privy to the personnel files, he knew that Algie (as he humourously referred to him) grew up in northern New York State in a suburb just west of Buffalo.  His father had been a math professor at a local community college and his mother was a convicted drug dealer. Anyone could properly discern this if they simply listened closely to his endless narratives. I mean a quandary was probably as close to a quarry as Algie ever got. AND WHO THE HELL WOULD EVER EVER EVER WISH TO LISTEN CLOSELY TO A PSYCHOPATH?

Oh Algie was a bore-ass as Ralph used to call such spewers of drivel, but Algie was a psychopath. Even NORTHCO would send him away for a couple of weeks to a mental ward in the Twin Cities every year or so and for good reason. The last furlough that Algie received had to do with a local ranger who caught him torturing raccoons in the old forest where the old road ran. He would use this poison dart gun, shoot the poor buggers, and then begin removing their little claws.

When Algie was confronted with his inhumane treatment of the little masked critters, he remarked:

HAVE YOU EVER WITNESSED WHAT THESE BUGGERS DO TO BIRDS THAT HAPPEN TO FALL OUT OF NESTS...TOO YOUNG TO FLY AWAY FROM THE GRASP OF THESE MONSTERS AND NOT PROPERLY EQUIPPED TO FLEE ON FOOT.

How did such a sociopath ever end up at NORTHCO?  It appears that Algie was somehow related to the CEO of NORTHCO years ago and NORTHCO hardly ever fired anyone, once that person was hired.  Oh the ranks were thinned from time to time through death and such, as we previously pointed out in this narrative.  But there was a strange policy in this company to keep everyone on salary and keep everyone in their little part of the project.

Algie, we must focus on the problem here. Now I gave you the file on this complaint from the local ranger. We cannot piss him off. We must show that NORTHCO cares about what is going on in its neighborhood. Now you are the top chemist here. I want you to come up with a working paper where we demonstrate that pollution comes from other sources. Like the local power plants or factories upstream--including the lumber companies. Okay?

Sure Sean. I am working on it. The constipationaries are grouping together and I understand the problem here.

Good Algie. And I assume you mean constituencies. Right?

Whatever!!!

With that Algie was gone, back in his cubicle where he spent half his time. The other half was spent in the lab in the basement. These were the only working papers that might give Sean a clue as to what the hell was going on in the basement.

He had kind of agreed with Frank that information had to be gleaned from documents in his own section here at NORTHCO. He was especially bothered today because the drive way leading to the entry carved out for trucks to get to the lower level was being retarred again. Did not they just do that last week...no two weeks ago. Is that normal?

It hit him because there were always new ruts and cracks in that driveway, hell in the entire driving and parking areas at NORTHCO.  There must be some substance being transferred into NORTHCO OR OUT OF NORTHCO that was dangerous enough to attack streets. And if this substance or these substances were that dangerous to the health of roads, what the hell was the danger to trees and grass? What about human beings? 

Meanwhile Frank had showered--the longest shower he had taken since he was 16--and threw all his clothes including his shoes in the garbage. He felt odd to say the least. He was not even tired. In fact he felt reinvigorated for reasons he could not know.

He pulled up his hidden PC and started googling. He felt so stupid he just stayed on Wiki most of the time. Bioflorescence. That is where he started. I mean there were all these pictures of deep sea animals. Of course you have to shine ultraviolet light on those jelly fish and such. But geeeeez, I mean some of these jelly fish look like signs in Time Square. They did not just shine, they glittered. They flashed like neon signs of the most significant nature.

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/03/090317-new-rainbow-jellyfish-picture.html

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2008/09/photogalleries/fish-red-fluorescence-photos/photo3.html

But he stopped cold for a second, looking at the glowing green worms that secreted this glowing mucus.

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/04/photogalleries/glowing-green-worms/

Then Frank began to look elsewhere. Great pictures from National Geographic for instance. Frank was also interested in intentional gene splicing. Animals including mammals have been experimented upon in order to give them the magic sheen prevalent in bugs of the night and animals of the deep sea. Kind of a Dr. Moreau type of experimentation. The logical conclusion, which sometimes catches us in a most ridiculous web, would be sights of rabbits with lizard heads or fish with long arms containing five finger hands. Ha

But the splicing of genes had begun. http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/player/news/animals-news/fluorescent-dogs-apvin.html

http://google.nationalgeographic.com/search?access=p&entqr=0&output=xml_no_dtd&sort=date%3AD%3AL%3Ad1&ie=UTF-8&btnG.y=10&client=default_frontend&q=gene+splicing&btnG.x=45&ud=1&site=default_collection&oe=UTF-8&proxystylesheet=default_frontend&ip=10.11.30.252&filter=p

Then he found the article on glowing jack-rabbits. There had been reports of these monsters but how the hell do you track something like that down. I mean it had to be some sort pollution involved. There were many things that were being accomplished as far as tracking down these idiosyncrasies of nature or as he called them exceptions to 'the natural course of things'.

The actual cleanup began this week.

An estimated 50 million gallons of liquid wastes from Cold War plutonium-production processes -- laced with radioactive cesium and strontium salts -- were dumped in a 13.7-square-mile area south of central Hanford's 177 underground radioactive waste tanks. That dumping ended more than 40 years ago.

Similar dumping happened at a two-square-mile site in north-central Hanford.

Jackrabbits routinely burrowed into those sites.

They found the salt, liked it, and licked it.

Later, they pooped it, leaving slightly radioactive scat all over the ground. 

http://www.seattlepi.com/local/410808_radioactivepoop5.html

Turns out the jack rabbits had found some radioactive substances laying around. Their shite glowed in the dark.

The government has actually came up with a low-flying poop detectors.

Now there might not even be radioactive substances at NORTHCO but something was going on. Or maybe there was. How the hell would he know.

Frank thought of something, with a start, and ran outside to retrieve his bag of clothing. He might not wish this package to further pollute some dump site when it could be tested. Tested for 'things'.

He phoned up Freddy. Took an hour to get a return but there he was. The only guy in the fraternity who found himself buck naked, in the middle of downtown Minneapolis, carrying a sign that said:

I'M A FARMER WHO NEEDS A MECHANIC

Well hello there Franky. How is the gay caballero today?

Once in Cincinnati and I am branded for life Freddy?

Hahahahahaahahahahah What can I do for you my friend?

Freddy, I have a ticklish situation here and the first thing I need is total confidentiality.

You got that Franky. What's her name and her alleged age?

No, no, no Freddy. No problems on that arena, thank God. I work for a company called NORTHCO. I have been with them for ten years and I still do not know what they manufacture.

How the hell does that go down Frank?

Well we can go into that at a later date. But I do know that 80 cents of every dollar made comes from the Feds. The rest comes from investments and I play no small part in all of that. We are secluded up here in the Dakotas and there is some shit coming down that scares the hell out of me Fred. There are environmental changes of the first order and I need some help as I investigate it on the QT. Now you work for those green nuts.

You bet I do Frank and I am proud of it.

I know you are so proud Fred. And all those years we fought about this issue, I am having a rebirth of sorts. A real baptism of fire. Fred I ended up in the woods the other day. I mean we have blue deer, dogs and coons that glow in the dark and I think I am ill because of all this. My personal and secret physician is checking this out.

You mean Kev?

You got it. He is up in Fargo and he has sent out for some tests to be done on my blood. But I need some tests performed on my clothes. I have a full bag of clothes that I woke up in the other day after blacking out for three or four days. There is gook all over them and I know the stuff came from that part of the forest I just told you about....

And you would like me to take a look at the chemicals and such that I find on those clothes?

The two continued to speak on Frank's second phone. The cell phone tied to his private internet and put on the same outside billing. Freddy told him how to properly package the material and the address where he should send that package. Freddy acknowledged the need for secrecy having dealt with many whistle blowing cases. He had been burned several times by private corporate security stings; but his company was privately funded per groups like the Sierra Club and he trusted it completely. Hell, he invested his entire life into this company and its causes. Freddy was 'all in' as in the Texas Holdem game. His entire life had been put into the pot so to speak.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Frank got up and ...there was Sean.

Aren't you supposed to be at work?

Frank, it's six O'clock. Works over and you have to show up tomorrow.

Well what are you doing here?

Come on in Sparky.

Sparky entered, sparkling as ever.

Well hello spanky, how ya doin, said Frank.

Sparky stopped panting and laid down in a slump.

What the hell's the matter with the mutt Sean?

Sean whispered: Call him Sparky you idiot.

Frank frowned. Now I have to show deference to a mutt. Jeeeeeeez. Well hello Spaaaaaaaaaaaaaarky!!!

Sparky immediately jumped out of his malaise and yipped in ecstasy.

Well I'll be damned.

Never did that before Frank. Hell I used to call him chicken brains. Hahaha.

Well come in. You want a beer or something?

Sure. Sean followed Frank into the kitchen. I took him to the vet today. Just now. And the vet was astounded at this glowing. He took some blood and will get back to me. But according to him, Sparky should be full grown by now. Instead of 45 pounds he is supposed to be 65 pounds. And his actual size is much smaller than it is supposed to be. As a matter of fact, Sparky has shrunk.

Frank dropped the bottle of beer onto the floor. It bounced. He carefully set it on the counter and grabbed another one, handing it to Sean.

Sean. We have to have an understanding here. We talked about this before. But what is said between us must be kept between us. Understand?

Frank, I have not discussed this with anyone. And I do not intend to talk about it with anyone.

Frank fixed a bowl of water for Sparky and found some old dry dog food he had kept for Ralphy and set them down on the floor. Sparky was pleased.

Frank was sure the pup was looking at him with delight or some such. Eeeeeewwww.

Frank told Sean about Freddy and how he was going to send him his clothing from the night (week?) before. He also showed him his findings on the PC.

Sean shared with him his plan to get some documents from Algie.

Sparky had fed himself and was lying on the floor next to the beer drinkers.

Frank swore that the mutt looked at him funny, like Frank would make a nice dessert or something.