Letter From an Old Friend

Dear Steve,

I’m sorry you weren’t able to make the forty-fifth class reunion – but considering you haven’t been at any of the previous forty-four, I shouldn’t be surprised.

We had a great time talking about the great times we had in high school back in the sixties; how every year our football team would lose to the Kangaroos of Kefauver High over in Dacron, Ohio and how we could always count on a win against the Westview Scapegoats. Dean DJDIHG, our quarterback, waxed poetic on his memories; although they reflected more how he wished they had been than how they actually were. Our hippie classmates who spent most of the four years under a cloud and in a haze listened attentively. This was mainly because they don’t remember anything from 1965 until at least 1980.

You just never know how people will turn out. None of us ever figured that Bob SMITH would be so successful. But then again, we never figured Alice FRUMPKIN would have aspirations to become an ax murderer. Fortunately, since she wasn’t very good at it, she only got a three year suspended sentence and 150 hours of community service for assault. I still remember how she enjoyed he community service helping out at the blood drives. But I digress…

If you remember, Bob was an all A student because he had a phenomenal memory. However, he had no sense of logic or critical thinking. If the textbook said one must add acid to water and not water to acid, that’s what he put on the test. If you asked him why, he got a deer-in-the-headlight look and was literally paralyzed, until someone distracted him with a shiny object or a piece of food.

Today, Bob is a top federal law enforcement agent! He arrived in one of those surplus Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected armored vehicles that law enforcement agencies now use. It left fourteen inch depression in the road and parking lot as well as collapsing several sewer lines under the street, but he looked awesome. Naturally, he was in full SWAT camouflage complete with bullet proof flak jacket, helmet, and night vision goggles (after all you never know what might happen at a high school reunion!)

I managed to get him off to the side and after slipping him three Shirley Temples I got him to talk. Get this – he’s the head of enforcement for the federal agency that ensures that those tags on mattresses and furniture cushions are not removed under penalty of law. He shared some exciting stories about some of the raids that he’s directed. They smash down doors, fire flash-bang and tear gas grenades into buildings, and go through thousands of rounds of ammunition. However, during his entire time heading the agency, no American has been fatally harmed by a mattress without a label.

It’s enough to make you proud.

Hope to see you at next year’s reunion.

All the best,

Bill

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