I’m old. Old and gray. Old and gray and wrinkly. But, I used to be young…OH YES! I used to have skin that didn’t fall off my face…but, if I had to cling to a piece of bone for 70 years, I’d try to fall off too, wouldn’t you? But I have yet to lose my touch; in fact, if I were in my right mind and free of madness, I might even say that I was a teeanger trapped in an old woman’s body. A very old woman’s body. But like I said, I can’t really say exactly what I think anymore because of that madness. Once, I even forgot what a smoothie was; my granddaughter Ellie, from the side of my adopted son, had to remind me three times. I like smoothies.
Anyway, I don’t think I can complain about how my life went…well, maybe I can. In fact, I think I will. Let’s start at when I was thirty, because that’s where it all went wrong. You see, I’d been successful, a businesswoman, in fact, who made hundreds of thousands of dollars. Sure, that may not sound like much to you, but back then, you could say it was a lot. But then, after the stock market crashed for the third time in history, I lost everything, including my husband, who apparently was a greedy little gold digger and left because I no longer had money. Money wasn’t an issue when I was successful, you know…I was pretty well-off until the stock market crashed for the third time in history…now hold on, this seems vaguely familiar…oh my, I’ve gone repeating things again. I bet that madness is from the voodoo dolls that my own grandmother gave to me before she croaked; rather, before her spirit went to uh, a “better” place. She told me that I should pick up in her footsteps with those dolls when things went wrong, or I would live the rest of my years in a horrible torrent of pain, and if I told anyone that she had said this, I would never have my soul “redeemed.” It is a little late for that though, and now everybody knows her creepy little secret. Boo hoo for my soul.
Now voodoo is a hobby of mine, which might have something to do with why I’ve never had a biological child or another husband. I adopted two children after my hard days began, to ease my loneliness; my son, Johnny Winston, had some kind of strange head thing after falling from a tree branch at the age of 9…maybe I’ve dropped him on his head a few times as well, that may have complicated matters. Or maybe he caught it from one of his little friends at school; an old mind can’t really say or care. He had a hard life; he had no friends to speak of because of his…”gift,” got fired from his job as a fry cook after trying to drown a man in hot grease that told him he wasn’t “special”…in fact, the only thing that could’ve made things worse for him is if he had been on Average Joe 15. Oh wait…he was.
My adopted daughter Sally Mayer had a life slightly better…that is, until she watched “Doomraider,” and wanted to be just like Angelina Jolie’s little adopted spawns, who continued playing the role of the main character once she got old, like me. Sally thought it would be alright to bring a taser gun to the mall with her, and she got arrested for threatening the mall security until he revealed the location of the Hidden Chamber. Apparently, the Hidden Chamber is a correctional facility, which she found out a few hours later when the police brought her there to receive help for her warped views of reality. She calls me every now and then, and updates me on the spy missions that she’s successfully completed.
I hope to goodness that I was never like either of them; as I remember though, I was a pretty normal child for the most part…if you skil the whole bringing paper dolls to the 3rd grade as my “special friends,” and if you try to glance past my overall “creativity.” But what can be expected of a girl who grew up in…Bailey? Perhaps you’ve never heard of this town…it was destroyed in 2035 after every one of its inhabitants finally escaped…er, left. Now it’s just a little crater somewhere in Colorado. But, you’ve probably never heard of that either, because the U.S. and its states were renamed after it added all of Central America to the landmass, as a result of the Great Potato War. I was a veteran in that war…flinging potatoes was my life. Sally didn’t want her mid-life mother going into war, but she was in a loony bin…and Johnny didn’t really know what was going on, so I left to the border between the United States and what was once Mexico (now renamed South Texas).
Shortly after, I went through my mid-life crisis. I did some pretty crazy things, like going to a rated R movie in a leather miniskirt, a red crop-top, and my black go-go boots in an attempt to fight the oldness. I even pretended I wasn’t old enough to see the movie, and put up an imaginary fight with the ticket salesman, so that people would think I was only 16. I don’t think it worked. Then I felt so old that I threw away my miniskirt and bought an ugly little housedress, put my hair in a bun, started wearing glasses again, and knit a pair of socks for Johnny. After a while, I managed my being “over the hill,” as they say, and settled on wearing the crop top under my housedress so I could feel both young and old! But then I got to thinking: maybe if I dated again, I’d feel younger.
When I was in my early 60’s, I signed up with an online dating website to find that special someone. I hadn’t been on a date since my husband left me at the age of 35, so I didn’t really know what was “shakin’ and bakin’,” as my granddaughter says. Slang hasn’t changed a bit since my day…at least I don’t think.
After lying and saying that I was only 52, I got a date with…a man! I didn’t think he had “the look,” though, and I ditched him on our first date after he bought us lobster and wine with a typical ‘dine and dash’. But then “Mister Wonderful” came knocking on my e-mail inbox (I don’t understand AOL 60.0 as well as the older versions, though, so I was informed by my granddaughter Ellie). I was careful not to tell him of my voodoo hobby, if you recall.
When I went on a date with Francis Mackie, you’ll never guess who I ran into, to my great displeasure. An old “friend” of mine, by the name of Franny Hoagie, who had terrorized me in high school, was in the restaurant as well. She had kidnapped my two best friends, Emileen Olympus and Bessie Wettiger, in the closet of the QJobuh restaurant Francis and I were eating at. She asked me if I could come visit her, and I rejected her, telling her that my date was more important, and his butt was far less saggy than hers, which had worsened and sagged much more significantly now that she was 65. It was then that she brought over to meet her mystery man, who wore a paper bag over his head, and asked me to chaperone their adult activity. I hurled into a nearby waste bin and left with Mr. Mackie.
I ended up going into the nursing home with Francis; we never got a chance to marry. I couldn’t even walk up the altar if we HAD gotten the chance, because after I stepped on a nail sticking out of the floor of that Qdoba restaurant, I got gangrene and my legs had to be amputated at the cost of the manager, who was Frannie’s unusually ugly son, Ronnie.
I was saddened though just 5 years ago when Francis had a heart attack in the middle of an exciting, thought-provoking checkers game. He just kind of fell over, and he never got the chance to king me. At first I thought he was just a sore loser, but…clearly death knows no sores. Johnny and Sally felt for me, but of course, not enough to take me out of this horrible, horrible nursing home! I mean, um…they cared for me so much that they had me “properly taken care of.” You know, they don’t even visit me…except for Ellie, but I think she only does it because I give her money whenever she comes to see me. Life isn’t jolly. I HATE LIFE!. A CURSE ON ALL OF THOSE STUPID RELATIVES!
Speaking of Ellie, here she is to GIVE ME MY MEDICATION. THEY THINK I’M ANGRY! I’LL SHOW THEM ANGRY…I’LL SHOW THEM ALL! Thank you for reading this.
Now, where was I? Ah yes, the stock market crashed for the 3rd time in history when I was in my 30’s…let me tell you…