Follow up on Ralphy

Several people asked for a follow-up on Ralphy, the kid I mentioned in a previous story. I still see Ralphy occasionally. He is a very pleasant, likeable guy, but never set the world on fire. He holds down a job and putters round. He married and divorced and lived with his mother between relationships, but has been a stable relationship with a nice lady for a couple of years. He is good to his mama, an excellent recommendation. Alas, he didn’t grow up to a be a poet, and I don’t know who he calls now when he wants to talk on the hone.

Like a Pig in Slop

pig in slopRalphy was a quirky kid who lived just down the road from us.  When he was eight or nine, he’d call on the phone, asking to speak to Daddy.  We were always interested in hearing what he had to say.

“Mr. Bill?”

“Yeah, what’s on your mind today, Ralphy?”

“My mama just bought some of that new White Cloud Bathroom Tissue.  You should come try it!  Bye.”

Another call:

“Mr. Bill?”

“Yeah, Ralphy.  How are you today?”

“Fine.  I just got my report card.  I had all D’s and F’s.”

“No, Ralphy!  Surely not!”

“Yep, and I’ve got the papers to prove it!  Bye!”

Next call:

“Mr. Bill?”

“Hey, Ralphy.  What’s going on?”

“I wrote a poem in school today.  Want to hear it?”

“Why sure!”

“Rabbits love cribbage and cabbage.

Pigs love slibbage and slobbage.”

“That’s good, Ralphy.  What did you make on it?”

“An F.  It was supposed to be about the Flag.  Bye.”

We all hung on those phone calls like a pig in slobbage.