"Not a full-scale reactor, George. I was thinking of a modest breeder reactor. Just enough to power the house and perhaps the neighbor’s Christmas lights."

"Did I what?"

The argument escalated, becoming a cacophony of Southern accents and scientific jargon. Sheldon felt cornered. Nobody understood the purity of his vision. He retreated to his room, slamming the door with a force that rattled the framed pictures in the hallway.

"There you go," George nodded. "Simulate the heck out of it. Just... keep the actual plutonium out of my garage."

"I was going to line the sandwich bag."

"Just thinking about expanding the business," Georgie lied, trying to sound confident. "Maybe move into... I don't know, fireworks."