Every flavored elderly
June 14, 2009
The elderly are like a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. They shuffle into the restaurant, hunched over, with faces drooped with age and who knows what sort of person you’re getting! Those wrinkles and creases etched, now permanently into their skin, can be misleading. Shar-Pei’s have less folds than the aged. (Note: Shar-Pei to follow.)
Shar-Pei - there it is.
Even after talking to them, after you’ve dismissed the notion that this bulldog faced woman is one angry old hen (why the animals, why?), and she’s chatted to you like you were long lost relatives you don’t know what they’re going to do. People who don’t get their food in a timely fashion can turn on you like a squirrel with rabies (sure, why not continue…). Or, they can fool you momentarily into thinking that they’re batty enough to think that you can get soda for a nickel and when they tip you 65 cents you’re set for life. Look here, I know you’re living in the real world. I know and you know you’re not eating lunch for a $1.50 anymore. So give it up. The Great Depression 2.0 is on but your money isn’t worthless yet.
On the other hand, you get the good ones. The spunky ones that go out with friends not out of loneliness but because they really enjoy hanging out with their gang. (Ha, gang of elderly. Gaggle, flock, herd, murder, etc… done now.) Anyone past sixty is a jelly bean. That’s what I’ve really been saying.
The Elderly?
