“When I grow up, I want to be an astronaut,” said eight year-old Jack.
“Why is that?” asked his mother.
“Because I hate you and want to move as far from you as possible. I hope you die very soon and burn in hell, until I get there — then purgatory will do just fine.” Betty didn’t know what to do with her son. She imagined it was the influence of the new boy in his school, Ted.

Ted Kaczynscki Jr. hated the reputation bestowed upon him by the legacy of his father, the Unabomber. Ted was a sweet kid, each day bringing his teacher a candied apple, choosing the least athletic kids first in kickball, founding the first third grade Shakespearean Reading Group in the state of Kentucky.  Even though he donated blood regularly, and one of his retinas to a myopic sheep, his peers’ parents suspected him of ill will.

He went to see his best friend Sister Perpetua of The Cross.
“Sister, I feel so looked down upon.”
“Unibomb–er–I mean, Ted: I think that its all your imagination.”
“Really? When Jack’s mom beat me up yesterday she said she looked down on me.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“She said it was because my dad was a ‘cabin living psycho murderer’.”
“That’s strange.”
“Hmmm. I see you’ve got a k.d. lang album here. She’s a lesbian right?”
“Never heard of that word. What? You’re crazy talking. Get outta here.”

Thirty years later, Jack was a famous astronaut who had pitched a perfect game in the intergalactic World Series. His mother, having died of a mysterious overdose of Tang, was in hell being tormented by the ghosts of her previously aborted babies.
Sister Perpetua had retired her habit and became an extra in the off-Broadway production of Caberet. Ted had donated much of his body to science and animal shelters, earning him the name “The UnaDonor”.

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