Nobody said a word. She was on a rant. The Home was silent, silent as the lambs. The cook was admired by all, but not when she was on her rant.
“Ok everyone. This is your final warning. If I have to come in to work and clean up your mess, it is unacceptable. One more time and it is over.”
The group gulped in hysteria. Not the cook. She can’t quit. She is our life line. She is our savior. We love her. And we love her cooking even more than we love her.
Minnie approached her. “Oh gosh, we are so sorry. We watched a movie last night. You might remember it. It was a Bette Davis flick. And you know what? You remind us of Bette. You have her eyes.”
“I am not amused, Minnie. There was burnt popcorn in the microwave. And empty soda bottles on every table. And the oven was full of barbecued chicken, wasted. At least you could have put the chicken in the refrigerator. What is with you old folks? Have you lost your minds?”
Wolf spoke up: “Yes, as a matter of fact, most of these retards have lost their minds, including me. But you see, we are not responsible for our behavior. We really should have supervision at night. But we don’t. And we are left to fend for ourselves. You really don’t know how it is to be old and defenseless.”
“Give me a break, Wolf. I am not buying your nonsense. Either clean up or I am gone.”
“Ok. We will change our ways. You won’t have to clean up after us, anymore. Right guys?”
“Of course. We are so sorry.”
That evening, the residents gathered in the dining room, to watch Citizen Kane. They made popcorn, and forgot it was in the microwave. It burned. The soda bottles were everywhere, and the barbecued chicken sat in the oven, overcooked and overlooked.
The next morning, the cook arrived and sighed. “That’s it. I quit. No more.”
The group was silent, lambs again.
Minnie finally got the nerve to say, “Oh no. Not again. Look, we are really sorry. We watched a great move, with Orson Wells. You know what? You have Orson Wells’ eyes.”
The cook told Minnie she was full of beans.
Wolf explained, “We are really sorry. It won’t happen again.”
The gang chimed in: “Right. We will change our ways.”
That night, the movie was The Godfather. Popcorn burned, soda bottles exploded and chicken? Well, it was still in the oven when the cook arrived the next morning.
The silence was overwhelming. No one dared to breathe. The cook was pissed off. “Ok that’s it. I am quitting.”
“You know what? You have Al Pacino eyes?
The cook had to laugh at the audacity of the group. She sat down and said, “Ok. Something is not right. Before I leave for the day, I am frying chicken, fixing lemonade and popping corn. There will be no need for anyone to do any cooking. Understood?”
Everyone applauded and profusely thanked the cook. They had won. No more mess. No more cooking. Never underestimate the wisdom of Seniors.