— My father was the Alphabet Bomber. He may have been crazy, but he was my pop. The only one I ever had.
— God. I read about the Alphabet Bomber. Bombs exploding in the... the airport, the barbershop.
— That's right, all in alphabetical order. Carwash, drugstore. I used to lay in my cradle and hear him scream in his sleep. # A, B, C, D, E, F, G ## [mimics explosions]
— But your mom?
— My mother tried to stop him. She couldn't even spell, for Christ's sake, but they fried her, too.