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The Fudge Maker's Daughter

by Wayne Thomas (Age: 67)
copyright 12-19-2007

Age Rating: 13 +

Age twelve. Early autumn.

Rowdy boys play kickball in the gravely schoolyard--
Girls playing tether ball in the shade by the gym.
One lad, smaller than the rest, though
The same age, sits on a concrete step,

Eats a jelly sandwich, wishing he were the star
Instead of the klutz. And if he ever did get his foot into
The ball, it might roll all of sixteen or twenty feet.
Safer to sit here and eat, so long as no one

Steals his sandwich.
Blond-haired Sally drops down beside him,
Two years younger than he is, but quite pretty,
And nearly his height.
She thinks he's cute.

He returns her compliment, though secretly
He wishes that young Sally Huggins were
The tall, lanky and lovely Jenny Ripley from
His English class. And doesn't everybody in school know

He's the only boy in that class.
The other boys are all taller than he is and,
He thinks, better looking. Anyway, they tease him
Constantly about "keeping all the good ones to himself."

He smiles at that. Thank goodness they seldom bother him,
Unless they want help with schoolwork,
And one thing he is is a pretty good student (all "A"s),
So he can hold his head up there if nowhere else.

Sally says something while he drifts,
And she expects an answer.
"So do you want some of the fudge my Mom made?
She practically pleads, "It's really good."

"You bet!" he says, nodding eagerly.
After all, Mrs. Huggins' fudge is famous all over
Linton Falls, population 5,082.
Having at last made contact, Sally is thrilled,

And together they tear into the little box.
Before long the two of them are decked out
In smudges of chocolate, maple sugar, and
Mmmm! Divinity! Ignoring the inevitable teases of

"Cradle robber!" they go inside to wash off.
By the time they're finished
Lunch is over and English is next,
So he won't see Sally again till after school.

Once in English, the teacher leaves for a moment on
an urgent errand. He notes someone hovering over his desk.
Jenny. {Wow! There is a God!} She is a head taller than he is and
drop-dead gorgeous. "You kinda like her, don't you," she says,
"Sally, I mean." It sounds more like a question.

"Yeah, she's a pal, all right."
"Then you're not, you know, boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Sally might think so."
"Because I was wondering--

"I need a partner for Saturday night's dance,
"And I was thinking--"
She places a soft warm hand on his shoulder.
"I'd be--thrilled!" he says, gleefully.

After school, Sally waits for him.
"Are we going to the dance Saturday?" she asks.
"If you don't mind Jenny Ripley tagging along."
"She's nice. Oh, and I know who'll be tagging along. Right?"
He laughs: "Oh, Sally!" "Yeah, right."

Come Saturday evening he's beaming.
Let the teasing go on! He dances one dance in every four
With sweet young Sally; the rest of that blissful evening
He gazes fondly up at Jenny.

Oh, he might be a klutz, {yup!}, and he might be
Teased, {a lot!}, and he might be left out of things, (drat!)
And he sure isn't the world's best dancer,
But tonight he is on top of the world.

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        12-13-2010     Frank Fields        

A different time, a different place, but not so different memories. Perhaps. But always willing to suspend disbelief and flow with your tale. Had his cake and ate it, both, eh? And a bit of fudge to boot. lol

Very nice, Wayne. ^^

Frank :)

        11-15-2009     Sam Hackel-Butt        

Hi Wayne,
This caught my eye while I was working the approvals and I'm so glad I read it! I stumbled a bit at the beginning only because I was expecting rhymes or something along those lines, but the story was absolutely adorable and well written- I'm off to read it again :)


        01-11-2008     Mike Gallimore        

So I guess the message here is, in the words of the great Stephen Stills, Love the One You're With. We all get our 15 minutes, but usually they tick by without us realizing what's happening. After all, who would think your time to shine would creep up on you in a high school gym with the Fudge Maker's daughter. Nice job!

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