A taste of security
Al Lumpblast has collected fruitcake bricks every year since he was married 50 years ago. Every Christmas, she received the same gift: pieces of fruitcake. To her friends and family, the strange thing was that she never ate them. No one except his wife, Nanna, knew what she was doing with them.
From the very beginning, when he began to receive some consolidated loads of fruit, a tradition began. He announced to his family: “Fruitcake is the future.” He then gathered up the giant tasty pieces and mysteriously absconded with them to the basement. Since that first Christmas no one could come down to see what he was doing with them, because he opened several doors and placed the bricks in the last room. He then closed the last door and closed the other two until he arrived to join everyone. “What are you doing with those fruitcakes?” They all asked. All Lumpblast said was, “It’s the future.” That was it.
Many years ago, word spread through the community that there was a man who mysteriously kept fruitcakes in his basement. It wasn’t long before reporters from news teams visited Lumpblast’s house and tried little tricks to get the “Fruitcakeaire” to reveal the secret of him in the basement. He threw a bone at a reporter, saying: “Fruitcakes are one of the safest means of staying safe.” It was at this point that his wife intervened and said: “He’s right, the future is in the basement.” But, Al scolded her with such anger in her eyes, because she could have said too much.
Poor nana. She remembered a time when Al spent two weeks working in the basement, but Al wouldn’t let her come with him. All she remembered her Al bringing was several scoops into the room with fruitcakes. She went upstairs to eat and sleep. Nanna just asked her several times, “How are you doing?” “Wonderful! It will be ready soon,” she replied.
Last Christmas, the Lumpblast family ran out of fruitcakes for Al. They gave him a nice radio. All Al could do was sulk that he wasn’t eating fruitcake. But his son, Herb, announced, “We’re going to plug the radio in and turn it on so we can listen to Christmas music.” Nanna clapped her hands and said, “That’s a great idea. Turn it on!”
They barely turned on the radio when they heard a news bulletin. One newscaster said: “This is an urgent warning! Attention! We are receiving reports that a Russian warship off the coast of New York City has launched a strong nuclear threat that ‘America has ten minutes'”.
The family panicked, except for Al, who said, “Okay, everyone downstairs. Right now.” “But you never want us to go downstairs,” Nanna replied hysterically. “I’m about to reveal my secret,” Al said.
As they went downstairs, Al fumbled in his pockets for the keys to his secret room. When she got them out, she opened the door and opened it. The only thing Nanna and her son saw was a 7-by-7-foot rectangular fortress made of old fruitcake bricks six feet underground with a fruitcake room. “Quick, get in!” They crawled through a three-foot cubicle. “All these years of trusting your idea, this is a moment where I really want this to work,” Nanna said as she and her son smelled the fruitcake. “Yes. I didn’t want anyone to know because I wasn’t sure if the fruitcake would protect us. However, based on my calculations, we might be safe.”
Within minutes, they heard a loud roar above. Everything shook as the winds from the nuclear blast passed over his disintegrating house. Then the basement floor flew right over them, but their fruitcake fortress held steady.
They all hugged each other tight as more winds whipped noisily around their shelter. she was holding on. After ten minutes, when the winds died down, they continued to huddle in their shelter. So they heard nothing. Al warned, “Okay, now we have to stay here for a few days. I guess if New York City were hit, we wouldn’t get the full force of the blast since we live in Nebraska.” His wife said, “You did it. The fruitcake held up. You’re a genius!” “Wow. You really did, dad,” added his son.
After five days inside their fruitcake house, they heard a helicopter flying near their area. Al said that he thought he would probably be safe to go. After everyone got out, they spied on the helicopter, waved their hands and shouted.
Two marines saw them and flew towards them. They landed a couple of hundred feet from the Lumpblasts. One of the marines came over to examine them. The soldier looked surprised at how neat and tidy they looked. As soon as they were ready, the soldier told them to get on the helicopter and they flew to the nearest Navy outpost.
When Al and his family were informed about going to their fortress made of fruitcake, the sergeant frowned in confusion. “Fruit cake?” he asked as if he had heard everything, and had. “No one is going to believe your story.” “Go back and see for yourself,” Al told him.
The colonel running the outpost heard the story and was convinced after flying back with Al to see their fruitcake shelter for himself. “Have you told anyone about this idea of yours?” “No, sir. I wasn’t exactly sure it would hold up. So I kept the idea to myself until the right time. I didn’t want anyone to think it was fruitcake.”