Exhibit One: A Letter From Alex Fumar
by Caleb Ross

The following letter was delivered to Derek Fumar two days after his brother’s funeral. No other immediate family attended.

To be delivered immediately to:
Derek Fumar, 6513 West Eaglestreet, Omar, MI.
UNREAD

Derek,

Straight away, I’ve accepted that I’m not emerging from this rubble alive. With that said, I need a favor. And keep this quiet. I’ve collected a lot over the years. That’s an apt term, I think, collected. Some of that stuff is rare, could pay for my funeral and leave enough to drink and drug away mom’s disappointment. She still does that stuff, by the way. Don’t know if you knew. If apologies are in order, then my apologies. If you’re ever in need, she keeps her stash in the lining of her fur coat, the huge one. Could hide full families in that thing. I meant to tell her, that coat did nothing for her figure. With dad gone, she needs to open up. Tell her I said that, would you?

Sorry for the blood on the paper. The dust in the air has taken all the moisture. My cuts don’t heal, my skin cracks, the blood doesn’t stop. I’m getting hungry; enough to eat bugs, I swear. Lots of cultures do it, they told me during classes. AmeriCorp sends me to help, and I get trapped under a fucking collapsed elementary school. Most of the kids have stopped crying, though, which I take as a good thing. I’m supposed to monitor how much food we distribute, that’s what all the numbers mean on the other side of this paper. No need for this inventory anymore.

You think it’s true, that bugs eat anything with protein? Guess they could feast on my sheets at home. Oh yeah, I’ll need your help with those, too.

So, my favor: I’ve got more hiding places than you, anyone, even the government could know about. You think the government tabs that sort of stuff, like a question on the census? 2) If given the opportunity, would you be more willing to fist or be fisted? According to the 2007 census, 75% of white males between the ages of 25 and 35 would rather watch a gangbang than be a part of one. Damn, bro, I’ve missed my calling. Could you imagine asking that shit door to door? Too late for me. God hates a stable foundation, evidently; good thing we never had one, right? Molly always gets after me for not hugging enough.

Fuck, Molly! Clean up everything for her, too. She doesn’t need to see that side of me. Porn fucking scares that beauty. She’s simply too human for porn. They’ve got to have robotic confidence and a Budd-hist’s mental stoics to fuck like they do. Molly doesn’t have that. She’s got the walk, though, and knows how to wear a chemise with the right jeans. Fuck. When the shoulder strap slips down, and you’ve got yourself believing that if you stare long enough the rest of it will slide right down, down to just a pile of satin at her ankles. Fuck, she should be in a movie.

The movies, right. The survivalists warned me this sort of situation has the ability to warp perspectives and swap priorities. So, when mom moved all my stuff to the attic after I left for the corp she probably packed away most everything without even knowing it. I need you to dig i

It’s getting hard to breath down here. But the movies. The movies. I need your help with the movies. Films, I’d call them, but most wouldn’t. Maybe instead of burning them, you should donate them to lifelong learning organizations. Anomalously, of course.

Mom did a few films. If you didn’t know that, my apologies. In fact, you’re the reason she had to stop. She got away with a few pregnancy fetish videos, but once she popped, the money stopped. The industry called her “dried up.” Those words hit her harder than anything, anyone, ever had. Seriously, do a quick search for Cherry White.

Goddamn, if she knew the kind of stockpile I have. Tell her I love

If there’s anything to say, it’s that oxygen deprivation is like being drunk, man, it’s great. You know homoerotic affixation? I wonder if that’s true what they say. I’ve seen plenty of it, but people can lie on camera.

I’ve got one where she chokes the guy with the concave instep of a 6-inch Blahnik pump. Watching it, I couldn’t understand the draw, maybe I had too

Where did I hide those fucking tapes…

Goddamn, those pumps. If I get out of here, the first thing you’re going to do is tell me where you moved my stock to.

Sorry for the handwriting. I’m revved…

You’re lucky to have the libido of a eunuch. I’d father full armies just a few centuries ago. I’d be thrown trophy wenches, fucking horny ones, Caligula style. Girls would be swallowing me like they needed the protein.

Sorry for the mess. I hope it’s not true, that the bugs eat anything with