7.

In 1977, the year Audrey was born, none of the Mapeses had heard of Johann Zimmermann. He was moderately famous in his native Germany, having performed for nearly a decade at circuses, fairs, and European talk shows. His stage name was Herr Essenalles, which translates roughly to “Mister Eat Everything.” He devoured drinking glasses, light bulbs, chains, eyeglasses, and chainsaw blades. He ate a shovel.

Once, he ate a shopping cart. He took his time with this one, as you might expect. It was a plodding, meticulous process that sucked away every drop of urgency and excitement.

Kind of pathetic, really. Like a poodle trying to put away an elephant carcass. Makes you want to yawn and cry. For live demonstrations, Herr Essenalles generally consumed the smaller items—snow globes, whistles, screwdrivers—for quick applause. A ten-inch TV took him twelve hours. First, he crunched the VHF dial. Then the antenna, divided by hacksaw into inch-long segments. Then the UHF dial, which he worried like a stale cookie until it was soft enough to swallow. Then the TV’s plastic shell, broken by mallet into potato-chip-sized pieces. And finally, the cathode tube, also smashed into bites. Sometimes his mouth bled, but never seriously.

Audrey, as we all know, needed no hacksaws or mallets.

The doctors studied Herr Essenalles and found that the lining of his stomach was unusually thick. His stomach acids were also stronger than normal. Aside from these qualities, he was a regular, healthy guy. A fine swimmer, near-sighted, a mediocre conversationalist, a chess aficionado. Short-tempered but otherwise balanced. Sexual function = just dandy. Attracted to women his own age. That was the story, anyway.