Follow Up Report From Social Services

Hello Irv-- It's me, Cynthia, your social worker again.

I was hoping you would return to Vick Rorg's house with Kwan, but no one has heard from you in days.

The police dug up the corner of Vick Rorg's backyard and found the body of the missing social worker from last Thanksgiving. They arrested Vick Rorg last night at his place of employment. The house is now under police quarantine.

They have a description of your Honda, of you and Kwan, and of your father's red Prius.

I must admit, I've been drinking pretty heavily since the Labor Day Barbecue. I've never had a shotgun pointed at me, and consequently, I can't stop thinking about you.

I guess I love you. Maybe it's the rum talking, but I love you, Irv Rorg. You're young and muscular and troubled. You have questionable sexuality, and you have low self-esteem. My gray hair is hanging over my eyes as I write this. How could you love an old woman like me?

I'd follow you out to the desert if I knew where to find you. That hot sun beating down on the two of us together. I'd help to fix you, you misguided social outcast. I love you, Irv. I love you.

Whewwww....I just fell off my couch. Did I say I love you? Well, I do! I just do! I'd sit you on my knee and bounce you up and down and make you laugh. Gawd, I've got to stop drinking. That's how I lost my last job.

Irv, come back to me. We only just met, but I know we were meant to be together!

I've got to go now, my love. Super Nanny is on. I'm kissing this bottle and pretending it is you!