the sausage egg and cheese was a bit skimpier than ralph would gave liked, but he bit into it with enough enthusiasm as the childhood friend, who had purchased a cup of decaf and a jelly donut for himself, took out his tablet and tapped it on.
here is the first question, said the friend, as ralph was washing down his big bite of the sandwich with the water, which was not very cold.
what is the meaning of life?
what are my choices? ralph asked.
excuse me?, asked the childhood friend.
what are my multiple choices? ralph asked. you can’t have a question without multiple choices. you have to give me at least two choices, although four is the most common number.
a zombie. a clown, a bag lady, and a bounty hunter with a long black mustache were seated at the table next to ralph and his childhood friend.
the zombie turned and addressed the friend.
he’s right. man. you can’t ask people questions if you don’t give them the answers.
right on, agreed the bounty hunter with the black mustache.
the clown nodded, though not very enthusiastically, and the bag lady kept her own counsel.
thank you for your input, the childhood friend replied politely, but the question is meant to elicit a spontaneous response.
spontaneous montaneous combustion, said the zombie. it’s bullshit, man, the guy’s got a right to know there’s an answer to the question.
well, smiled the childhood friend, this fellow just happens to be my best and oldest friend from when we were lads together, and i was just about to explain to him the value of complete frankness and spontaneity in regard to such a momentous question, and i am confident, once he hears my explanation, he will agree with me.
that’s no good, brother, if he’s your best friend he might not want to hurt your feelings by insisting in a fair shake. the zombie turned to his three companions. what do you think?
sounds about right to me, said the bounty hunter, stroking his black mustache.
the clown and the bag lady also nodded agreement. the bag lady looked intently at ralph.
i tell you what, said the zombie. i am a helpful guy, so i will give you four choices that you can use, and your friend here can take one of them, or he can make up his own, what do you say? you can’t say fairer than that.
other patrons of the cafeteria had also taken notice of the discussion - among them a werewolf, a retired detective working cold cases, a gypsy fortune teller, and a nondescript little fellow. with a small notebook (made of paper) on the table in front of him.
it seemed to be universally agreed that the childhood friend should provide ralph with multiple choice answers, so with the best grace he could muster, the friend asked the zombie to proceed.
the four answers provided by the zombie, to the question, what is the meaning of life, were as follows:
a) winston churchill in 1935
b) hammurabi the lawgiver, in 1777 b c
c) the repairs to the paris metro in 1963
d) babe ruth in 1929
those don’t seem particularly relevant, said the childhood friend.
who cares if they are relevant, answered the zombie, they are answers, man, and that is what counts.
i have my own answer, said ralph.
everyone waited expectantly for ralph’s answer.
ralph stood up so that everyone in the cafeteria, including the two teenage girls behind the counter named joanie and elaine, could hear him.
i have a little poem i would like to read, said ralph, entitled the meaning of life, which expresses my deepest feelings. you could say it expresses my only feelings.
right on, brother, explained the bounty hunter, sing it out. and many of the other listeners, especially the zombie and the retired detective, added their own urgings. the little fellow with the notebook took a pen out of his pocket and prepared to transcribe ralph’s words.
ralph began to recite.
just then the door to the diner opened and four persons entered, followed by a cold wind.
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