I first learned about Riley Harper in a bluegrass background check. Ruppert caught up with him in Raleigh when he tried to trade a mandolin for a used car. Harper said it was a Gibson his grandfather bought in the Great Depression. Of course it was no such thing. Riley Harper had a ton of money and made all of it cheating someone else out of theirs, but Ruppert had to threaten to take Harper to small claims court to get him to pay for the used station wagon he bought for his wife.
Mama always said if I couldn’t say something good about someone to not say anything at all. I guess I could stop now with Riley Harper. I have no use for those who are not loyal.
But I told Mama, I said, “Mama, if I don’t write about the bad guys, how are my friends gonna know how to spot ’em?”
“Hm. I suppose. I guess it’s okay if you write about them, just don’t hang around ’em.”
“Yes, Mama. I inherited my radar from you, you know. I won’t even let ’em take me to lunch.”
“You are such a good boy.”
“Indie used to say I was a Boy Scout.”
“My goodness, Indie was such a rogue.”
“Yeah, but we loved him anyway. At least he was an honest rouge.”
Mama smiled. “”Yes he was dear. I just wish he hadn’t had that affair with that little hussy from France. It took Immogene a long time to get over that.”
“I know Mama, and you’re right, but at least he was sorry.”
I’ll be back soon to tell you more about Riley Harper.
Dr. BAcquisition Syndrome, Writing
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