Originally published in the October 1984 C&E.
It was a surprise visit.
What happened, largely unreported by the daily news media, was that Boris Badenov, Russian DX ace, and his secretary from Box 88, Natasha Bullwinkle, came to Oklahoma recently along with a Soviet trade. delegation wanting to see if they could trade us three or four defective Bulgarian tractors for a couple of hundred million metric tons of wheat.
Well, naturally the governor and the legislature turned out, along with the Chamber of Commerce and the local Mickey Mouse Club, and this fellow named Yuri Unpronounceable talked about brotherhood and freedom and other things he had just looked up in his Thesaurus, and on the following day the delegation went down to Norman, home of the University of Oklahoma, so they could see how you study energy for the oil companies with a hole in the ground.
One of OU’s more famous offices gave Badenov a literary prize for his logbooks, and Natasha was voted the favorite pinup girl by five or six major fraternities.
Then Boris Badenov and Natasha got a ride on the Soonerville Trolley all the way down to Honor Role Ranch, home of the world’s greatest DXer, Q. R. Zedd, A5A. We got to ride along, sharing seat space with the AP, UPI, Ham Radio and Pravda.
Zedd, given only a few minutes’ warning, met Badenov and Natasha on the verandah, wearing his PROP. OF OU ATHLETIC DEPT. tee shirt, red britches, cream-colored boots, and bronze belt buckle loaded up for 40 meters. His nubile, blond, 20-year-old QSL secretary, Tondelayo Schwartz, was right at his side. She was wearing a short pink dress and five-inch spikes, with her various bronzed DX awards around her next like a squashblossom necklace.
Up clomps Badenov, in his baggy brown Red Army uniform and fat brown boots, his 14 rows of DX medals shining in the sun, and along slinks Natasha, wearing a skintight black jump suit with a hammer and sickle on it just where you would least expect. Her long black hair and slanty green-gray eyes with all the makeup around them provided quite a contrast with Tondelayo’s wholesome American Max Factor look, everyone in the press corps agreed.
Zedd stuck out his hand to Badenov. “Welcome, pardner. It’s always great to meet one of the Rooshian boys again.”
“Is signal pleasure,” Badenov growled, “once again shaking hands with number two DXer of world, Q. R. Zedd.” Zedd blinked but smiled. “Did you say number two, boy? The last time anybody called me that was when it was the number I wore in the Olympics that year I won six gold medals.”
“Everyone know,” Natasha hissed, “my Boris is number one!” She stroked his arm and glared at Tondelayo.
“Number one,” Tondelayo cooed, “in drinking Coors and eating Twinkies.”
“You watch out, little capitalist oink, or I will stick you with my knife!”
“Is peace mission,” Badenov whispered to his secretary. “Try be cool, da? Remember, Natasha, we got to be nice, get that wheat back to Mother Russia.”
“Speaking of cool,” Zedd put in, “we have a few cases of Colorado KoolAid on ice inside. You want to –” He got no farther, alas, because Badenov had already rushed by him, church key coming out in midstride.
Inside, with empty cans and Twinkle wrappers piling up like snow in an Aspen Blizzard, Badenov started bragging about some of his recent exploits. Natasha, meanwhile, was honing her dagger on a whetstone taken from her purse, and shooting a few verbal darts at the darling Tondelayo.
“Is pregnant, darling?. Natasha asked. “Or is only putting on more weight?”
“I weigh the same,” Tondelayo replied sweetly. “Honestly, honey, I guess you just got mixed if on account of you have to look at your own self in the mirror all the time.”
“Is in perfect condition for Soviet womanhood, is my body!” Natasha sprang to her feet, put taloned hands on her slender hips, and posed. “See?”
“You poor little thang,” Tondelayo murmured. “Can’t you get breast augmentation surgery while you’re over here? Ain’t it a nuisance, your tee shirts falling right down to your waist when you put ’em on over your head?”
“Watch out!” Natasha hissed, “or I stick you with my knife yet!”
“My goodness, what are you mad about? There are probably all sorts of advantages to havin’ a build like yours. I mean, you don’t have to walk around in front of the mirror to look at yourself, you can just look in the edge –“
“Capitalist cow, exposing flesh like brazen harlot! You are no better than this big fake, Zedd! All bluster, no luster. All flash, no cash! All brag, no swag! Ha!”
“Now, Natasha, honey,” Tondelayo said, her voice changing subtly, “it’s all fine and good for you to insult me. I mean, you’re a peasant and we all got to make allowances. But I don’t take kindly to anybody badmouthing the greatest, finest, truest DXer who ever lived, Mr. Q. R. Zedd. If you get my drift.”
“Girls,” Zedd himself cut in calmly, raising his voice just enough to stop the scuffling, “let’s not have any ruckus here, okay? Anyway, while you and Natasha have been fussing, Tondelayo, honey, ole Boris and me have been talking about how we might settle this question of who’s the best Dxer, between him and me, once and for all. Do you want to hear about it?” (To be continued.)