About the Author Misha Firer is a 25-year-old writer from Russia. After fighting in the Israeli Army & getting high in Amsterdam, he incidentally wound up in Berkeley, California. This year his short stories, essays and columns have appeared or forthcoming in BIG News (2), Laundry Pen, NuVein (2), Paumanok Review, Pink Chameleon, Rose & Thorn, Scarlet Letters, Slow Trains (2), Struggle, Taint, Vestal Review and WordRiot.

A strange ailment beset the town of Zagav: for every female child there were born two males. Since the inhabitants’ medicine didn’t reach a high level of advancement, they were left with natural and superstitious solutions that in the long run proved to be useless.

So when Mr. Doodle, one of the less fortunate citizens, made an announcement that his teenage daughter LooLoo was available for marriage, there were a number of young bachelors at the threshold the very next morning.

There was a tradition in Zagav that girls chose their husbands on their own, without the interference of their parents.

Mr. Doodle lined up the suitors, all young and handsome, five of them, on the football field outside the village and brought his daughter to meet them.

LooLoo had a folding stool in her hands and she opened it up and took a seat.

“My name is Mr. A,” a business-like young man said, stepping forward from the group, “I’m the richest man in the town and have businesses all over the nation. If you choose to be my partner, I will bring riches to you. ”

The next one, a tall man whose body was one bulging muscle, said hoarsely, “My name is Mr. B and I’m an athlete. I’m the best football player in the village, and this very field witnessed me lead my team to many a victory. If you marry me, I will defend and protect you, and dedicate all my sports triumphs to you.”

A trendy metrosexual, whose dress code and haircut were the creation of homosexual artists, followed the athlete.

“My name is Mr. C and I’m a highly-cultured, high-society man -- a rarity in this place. If you become my wife, you will be the most striking-looking and cultured lady in Zagav.”

A disheveled and downtrodden suitor with thick spectacles mounted on his nose stepped forward, “My name is Mr. D and as you can see I’m the intellectual, which simply means that I’m a head above all the town inhabitants. If you are with me, I’ll show you the workings of the world and how the social system operates.”

A diminutive fellow with a depressing face was the last suitor. Holding his hand to his heart he said, “My name is Mr. E and I’m a hopeless romantic, a poet of love. If you are my beloved, I will give my heart and soul to you. I will write poems and odes to the glory of your ineffable beauty.”

There was an uneasy silence, as LooLoo contemplated the suitors' pitches.

“Let the show begin!” she finally announced.

And so it began.

Mr. A's tactic was to bribe or buy everyone else out of the competition; his pockets were stuffed with bank notes that he offered to everyone. Mr. B bullied and pushed the other suitors, who all were physically much weaker than he was, trying to knock them away.
Mr. C pretended as if it was all a stupid game and that he was on top of it merely by avoiding any direct confrontation with the others; he gorgeously strolled around like a gander. Mr. D was trying to talk everyone into signing a mutual treaty to resolve the conflict by peaceful means of discussion and democratic voting. Mr. E was seemingly in the throes of emotional pain, bemoaning the petty fight, his anguished mind wandered; now and then he raised his hands towards LooLoo in supplication, his eyes full of tears.

By the afternoon they all got exhausted and LooLoo called for a break and ran back home to share her impressions with her father.

Mr. Doodle listened attentively to his daughter’s account. Now to be honest, Mr. Doodle secretly wished for Mr. A to win the competition for his daughter’s hand. Like most of the inhabitants of the town, Mr. Doodle considered money to be a protection against all life's sorrows and troubles. But he didn’t want to influence his daughter’s decision. In the end, getting impatient, he asked, “So which one do you like the best?”

LooLoo pouted and said listlessly, “None of them.”

Mr. Doodle flared up, “But you have to choose someone!”

He knew very well that if his daughter didn't marry now, she would spend her youth chasing idle pleasures, and remain single into her middle age. Unfortunately the town's medicine wasn't sophisticated enough to guarantee that she would still be fertile when she finally decided to get married.

“Let’s go and take a look at those guys,” Mr. Doodle said as softly as he could. LooLoo didn’t want to be too hard on her father and gave her consent.

They reached the football field where the suitors were resting uneasily. When Mr. Doodle and his daughter looked at them they saw six, not five suitors. Clearly there was a fresh addition.

An unwashed man moved forward from the group and introduced himself, “My name is Mr. F and I’m a homeless. . .I mean, universal man.”

“And what the hell does that mean?” Mr. Doodle asked suspiciously. “Or perhaps I should ask a different question, what do you do?”

“As I suggested, I can do everything,” the sixth suitor replied confidently, “I cook. I sew. I do shopping. I feed and look after the children. I run small errands.”

Miss Doodle looked at the Universal Man with her mouth wide open.

Mr. F continued nonchalantly, “I do laundry. I do dishes. I vacuum. I wash the floor. I do gardening. And I do many other things. I’m a real multi-tasker you know. And what is more, I can make your father and your friends think that I am a hell of a guy!”

LooLoo rushed and grabbed Mr. F’s hand and put it against her heart. Then she turned and said to her father, “Please meet my betrothed.”

The couple got married and had four children, two boys and two girls. The village chief connected that miracle with Mr. F’s Universality and passed a law that required all men to be trained in his art. Mr. F became the principal of the new school.

The results were immediate and amazing.

For the first time in many years Zagav enjoyed the birth of equal numbers of male and female babies.