Initially, the boys in the office thought the baby cigars Ron Krunge was handing out was a joke.
“No siree,” said Ron, a decent, swell upstanding guy. “No joke. It’s A Wraith!”
Was it a boy or a girl, the guys asked. “Gee whiz, fellas,” said Ron. “Read the cigar. Me and Margie had a wraith, and that’s good enough for me.”
Well, how much did it weigh, they asked, trying to relate. “Jeepers, guys, it’s a spectral apparition that floats over the scale. You guys are getting’ me sore!”
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Can we come by the hospital and see it, they wanted to know. “DANG IT!” yelled Ron. “What part of spectral apparition don’t you get? My baby wraith appears to whoever WHENEVER it wishes and any one of you has a problem with that I’ll bop you right in the nose!”
And that’s pretty much the last time the guys at Humpstadt Paper Trails mentioned the Krunge kid, till ‘Bring Your Kid To Work Day’ when Ron who kept insisting his wraith had no idea why all the other kids kept getting soaked in ectoplasm.
