One beautiful Maine autumn morning, Jimmy had just finished his paper route and was heading to school. The birds were chirping, the leaves were falling, and everything was perfect. He met up with his teacher, Miss Turner, and pulled a large, red, shiny apple from his backpack. He shined it on his shirt and gave it to her. "Good morning, Miss Turner!" he exclaimed with glee.

The teacher took it, and spun it around in her hand to examine it for bruises. "Well, I have to hand it to you, James," she said with a smile, "it's absolutely lovely." Jimmy grinned as he walked to class.

The bell rang its shrill ring and Jimmy sat perfectly straight in his front row, center desk. Miss Turner announced that they would start with Math on this particular day, and every kid in the class slumped in their seats and groaned. Every kid, that is, except for Jimmy Fuller. Math was his favourite subject at school, and he excelled in it. No other kid knew quite as much as him when it came to numbers. Miss Turner wrote a complicated problem on the board. "All right, who can answer this one?" Without missing a beat, little Jimmy raised his hand in triumph. "Ah, I knew you would know this one!" the young teacher responded in joy as she pointed to the boy, ushering him to speak.

Jimmy stood up, pointed his finger at the board, opened his mouth, and suddenly there was a flash of blinding light, followed by the deafening sound of silence.

Everybody had died in a hellish Atomic explosion.