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.
“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.”
“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!”
“Hey, Ralphy. What’s going on?”
“I wrote a poem in school today. Want to hear it?”
“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.