The P Word

Memorial Day at the Autumn Years Rest Home:

There was a buzz in the air. Today was the day of the picnic. Minnie and Wolf claimed their table at 11am. It was the only table with shade. And today, they needed shade. It was 92 degrees and sticky.

One by one the group sauntered outdoors, to wait for the feast. The cook had stuffed and roasted the turkey. The Salvation Army band showed up and played patriotic songs. They handed each Senior a small flag. It was going to be a wonderful day.

Mr. McCracken, the janitor was seen wandering through the crowd, stoned out of his mind. “Hey, Crack,” yelled Frank, bring any goodies with you?”

“Nope. Just looking for my babe. Have you seen her?”

“Who’s your babe, Crack? We have lots of babes here.”

Just then, Ms Ratcher walked out of the Home and ushered Crack out of the crowd. The group could hear here saying, “Where in the @%@# have you been? Did you bring the weed? I have to put up with these old geezers all afternoon. I told you I need a sedative.”

The two of them stood off to the side, and lit up. There was a mad rush of the crowd, running towards them. George spoke up first, “Ok, Crack, either share or we will report you to the Salvation Army.”

Weed was passed around. The Seniors puffed away, as the sun beat on their frail, pale bodies. By 2pm, the majority of the old folks were burned to a crisp. Even their wrinkles had turned into a blazing color of fire engine red. However, no one seemed to care. The weed’s effect took over and someone threw a blanket on the ground and the Seniors piled on, and laughed their asses off.

The cook came out at 3pm, and gasped. “My God! What is going on? Get out of the sun right now. Get in the Home. We are having our picnic inside, before you all get 3rd degree burns.”

Wolf turned to the cook and said, “Hi Hon. What’s your name?”

The group erupted in laughter. It didn’t matter what anyone said, everything was funny.

“Either you get inside right now or I am getting the hose and spraying cold water on all of you. Now move it.”

Reluctantly, the group moved towards the Home. Minnie took a look at Wolf and said, “Hey, chickie, you sure have a nice red tan.”

“Yeah, well, wait to you see what you look like: A lobster in heat.”

The cook dished up roast turkey, stuffing, potato salad, cole slaw and biscuits. Not a bite was taken.

“What’s the matter? Why aren’t you eating? I cooked all day for y’all.”

Frank said, “Well, it’s like this. Our arms are so burnt, that we can’t raise a fork. Hurts too much.”

The cook summoned the janitor and the Director and told them that there was an emergency. Burned old fogies.

The paramedics showed up in no time, sprayed the old folks with ointment and told them to stay out of the sun.”

Wolf said, “But we are hungry. And we can’t eat.”

The Salvation Army Band was called back to the home, to indulge in a turkey dinner and to help feed the Seniors. When the picnic was over, the Seniors slowly tiptoed to their rooms. Toasted, all of them.

It took several days for the burned skin to heal. And then there was the peeling. Pat said she would never go outside again. Frank said he didn’t care if they ever had another picnic. Minnie and Wolf smeared cold cream on their faces and looked like mummies.

Gordon was the only one who was spared. He didn’t show up for the gathering. He had eaten boiled jerky and was quite gaseous. When he took a look at the group the next morning, he said, “Gee. What happened? I was sick. I couldn’t attend the picnic. So let’s see, what’s next? Oh yes, the 4th of July! Let’s start planning.”

The group ganged up on Gordon and threatened to whoop his ass, if he ever mentioned the P word again.

“Huh? P word? All I did was mention a picnic.”

That did it, Gordon ran out of the dining room, chased by a charred group of Seniors. His ass was whooped.


The day the girls went on strike

Sunday morning: Autumn Years Rest Home.

Pat and George were fighting. Pat wanted to watch Twilight Zone and George wanted Leave it to Beaver. Minnie spoke up, “Knock it off you two. Let’s try to get along this weekend. It’s Memorial Day tomorrow and we have to prepare for our picnic. So turn off the tube and get your butts out to the kitchen.”

George said, “Oh no. That’s womens’ work. I am not helping you old goats in that kitchen. You are way too bossy for me. So get out there, girrrrrrrrrrls, and start cooking.”

Wolf approached George with her hands on her hips and chastised him for his remarks. “If you think for one minute, we ladies are going to take this verbal abuse, you are crazy. We have made a decision: The guys are now in charge of the picnic. The ladies are on strike.”

The men looked stunned. Now what? “This happens every time you open that big mouth of yours George.”

“Aw, nothing to it. Piece of cake guys. Come on. Men are better cooks than women anyway. Just look at the cooking channel. Hardly any women on there that can really cook.”

The men reluctantly went into the kitchen, while the women chuckled to themselves and turned the channel to the Twilight Zone.

Frank and Gordon took out the hot dogs and ground beef. “Just what should we do with these?” George said, “Boil the dogs and fry the burgers.”

Being old and senile, Gordon and Frank got it mixed up, and boiled the burgers and fried the dogs. It was a disaster. Shriveled dogs and flakey ground beef. The meat was ruined.

George was peeling potatoes for the salad, while James was shredding cabbage. They took a break to see how the burgers and dogs were coming along.

“What the hell? How in the world did this happen?”

“You said to boil the hamburger and fry the dogs, and we did. They don’t look too bad, do they? We can always heat them up on the grill tomorrow.”

“No way in hell would anyone eat that mess. Get rid of them. And start frying the chicken.”

Frank and Gordon took 2 whole chickens out of the fridge and threw them into an ungreased skillet. The smoke started to rise and the fire alarms went off.

Ms Ratcher, the Director, ran into the kitchen and yelled, “Everybody out. Fire!”

The residents lined up in the front yard as the firemen put out the fire. They asked the Director who did the cooking for the Home. She replied, “Our cook made breakfast and left for a few hours. No one else should be cooking.”

The Fire Chief said, “Well, lady, those chickens must have been alive when they walked into the skillet and burned themselves to a crisp. I think you better do some investigating.”

George spoke up, “It’s all Wolf’s fault. She made us cook.”

When the Director finally sorted out the facts of the various stories, she made an announcement: “The kitchen is off limits. Do you understand? No more cooking.”

The residents called a meeting and took up a collection to buy more dogs, chicken and hamburger. Gordon and Frank volunteered to go to the store.
When they got back, they handed the bags to the girls. As they opened the bags, the girls were astounded. No dogs. No hamburger. No chicken

“What the hell? Gordon! Frank! What’s this?”
They pulled out a 25 lb frozen turkey, a carton of beef jerky, and 20 packages of TV dinners: Salisbury steak.

Frank looked surprised and said, “Yep. We forgot our glasses, but we did good, right?”

The cook arrived later that day and started to thaw out the bird, so she could roast it for the picnic. She made potato salad and cole slaw and decided this year, the dogs and burgers were history.

That night, the residents dined on Salisbury steaks. And the jerky? No one knows and no one cared. But rumor has it, Gordon boiled it the next day. And put it on a hot dog roll. He was the only one who didn’t show up for the picnic.


God protects sinners and boozers

“My gosh, Minnie, it is sweltering out there. And I hate hot weather. What’s up? Tornadoes in Missouri and Oklahoma. People missing, ruined, and dead. And the goof on the weather channel says there is a severe storm heading our way. Let’s get the heck out of here. We need to go to a safe place.”

“Wolf, give it a rest. Tornadoes never hit Pennsylvania. So just cool it and try to relax.”

“Wait a minute. Look outside. It is dark and foreboding.”

“Yeah, well, it happens to be 11 pm, you idiot. It gets dark at night.”

“Fine. You stay here. I am not giving up my life for a stupid storm. Look at the lightning, and listen to the thunder. If you had half a brain, you would pack up and leave with me.”

“And just where are you going? It is safer to be inside, then to leave the Home.”

“No, Minnie. I am telling you, I have a feeling that we need to leave. It is not safe to stay here. If you stay, we will never see one another again.”

“Nonsense. I am not going anywhere. Hit the road, girl. And I will see you in the morning at breakfast.”

Wolf walked 5 blocks to the Sports Bar, in heavy rain. A tree had fallen on the road, and power lines were down. Wolf skipped over the lines and entered the bar. No one was there, except for the bartender. The lights had gone out. The bartender turned on the generator. The lights went on and a drenched old bag was sitting at the bar.

“Oh God. How long have you been here? I didn’t know anyone was here. Can I help you?”

“Just a glass of wine. That’s all I need. Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“Look lady, you must be delusional. There is a tornado warning for this area. We better high tail it to the cellar.”

Wolf and the bartender took 4 bottles of wine with them to the basement. The storm passed in 40 minutes, but the two of them were inebriated and didn’t give a ##%@%# if the tornado had hit or not.

The next morning, Wolf walked back to the Home. The roof had been ripped off. All the residents had been taken to a local shelter.

Wolf walked back to the Sports Bar and ordered a cheese omelet and a glass of champagne. The bartender said, “Hey, you’re back. What’s up?”

Wolf winked and said, “Not much. Just hungry. Hey, can I stay here for a few days? I guess the storm did a number on the homes around here.”

“Why not? Another storm is brewing right now. Grab your champagne and your omelet. We need to get into the basement.”

The storms raged for 3 more days. The bartender and Wolf drank the rest of the wine stash. By then, the roof had been repaired, and Wolf walked back to the Home. Everyone thought she had been swept up by the tornado, and they were meeting to schedule a memorial service.

When the residents saw her, they rushed to her side and hugged her. She smelled of booze and eggs.

“Wolf! Where have you been? We thought you were dead.”

Having been on a binge, Wolf was in no mood to appease the crowd. She told the group to continue with the memorial service. She was not sure if she had survived or not. She was hung over and very weak. Slowly she walked to her room and crashed on her bed.

As they say, whoever they are, if you want to be safe in a storm, go to a church or a bar. God protects the sinners and boozers. Too bad the local church had been demolished. So much for old wives’ tales.


The Finale

Wolf stopped after work to pick up lottery tickets, pizza and beer. She entered the Autumn Years Rest Home at 8pm. The residents were watching Idol.

“Pizza and beer everyone!”

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh. We are watching Judas Priest.”

“Who? I didn’t realize you like hard rock. What the hell?”

“Oh just zip it, Wolf. We are watching the finale of Idol. And we are enjoying every minute. So bring on the pizza and beer and quiet please. This is the end of the season.”

“This is exactly what I don’t like about this rest home. You are all caught up in meaningless trivia. You should be out in the working world, the real world, where life and death depends on your decisions.”

“You are nuts. Really nuts. We have all been there. Work is not life and death. It is who you know, who kisses up to whom, and politics. And you refuse to give it up. Try to enjoy the evening Wolf. And stop playing dog eat dog.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. No one even asked about my day, and the trials and tribulations I have been through. I can’t believe how selfish you all are.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. So what? Like we said, we have been there, done that. And if you were intelligent enough to realize you are only a number in the vast numbers of workers, who will not blink an eye when you leave, you might start to enjoy our simple pleasures.”

“Ok. Let me ask you this: Would you buy the records of the winner of Idol? Would your world be any better if what’s her name won, and Scottie lost? Would either one of them care if you voted or not? Has anyone really had their world changed because someone won or lost?
Give me a break.”

“It isn’t about winning and losing, Wolf. It’s about enjoying the show.”

“I don’t care for this show. I think all the young kids of this country decide on the winner. They vote 10 or 12 times every night, on their cell phones. And you think this is fair?”

“Life isn’t fair, Wolf. So get over it and sit down.”

“Nope. I am going to my room. The food channel has a marathon of Chopped. And don’t tell me who wins this goofy show. I bet none of you can remember who won last year anyway. And next year, same, same. Good night.”

The residents clucked and sighed and were secretly happy Wolf left the room. Minnie spoke up: “I didn’t know there is a marathon of Chopped. Geez, we are missing it.”

“Go ahead Minnie. Change the channel. We can always find out who won in the morning. Besides, who likes country?”


The Next American Idol is…..

“Idol is on. Let’s watch it Minnie.”

“Yeah, ok. I guess so, but I hate country music.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone loves country. It is straight forward, all American, and simple, yet engaging.”

“I hear you, but I don’t agree. I would rather hear a good rocker. Or a broadway babe.”

“I guess you don’t have a choice Minnie. America has voted and the country kids are in. So go ahead, pick a winner.”

“My vote is for Pia.”

“She lost, you goof. It’s between the two kids.”

“Like you are voting, Wolf? Go ahead, choose the winner. Does it really matter?”

“Of course it does. This could make a career.”

“Naw. Look at the past: David Cook? Fantasia? Kelly, the fat lady? Or what’s his name, the big dude who looked like a teddy bear? Did any of them really make it?”

“Well, Carrie made it. So there.”

“I guess. But she is not the norm. What about Jennifer Hudson? She had to lose to make it. And so did Daughtry.”

“This is different, Minnie. These kids have a long life ahead of them. They are only 16 years old. One or both of them will be on top of the world.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I cast my vote for Steven.”


“Steven. Steven Tyler. He is the real winner of this season. His popularity has exploded, his book is a top seller and he is bound to make a bundle on this gig. Even more than he made when he was singing for Aerosmith. And the biggest joke is that he is 63 years old, an ex druggie and a womanizer.”

“Minnie, you are a cynic. But I must admit, for once, you are right. Give me that phone, I am voting for Steven.”


Insider Tip

The residents of the Autumn Years Rest Home were treated to a brunch by the local food bank. Omelets, hash browns, ham, fruit, waffles, and sausage were waiting on the serving table. The group scurried into the dining room and helped themselves. It should have been a delightful meal.

However, it was raining again, and moods were running rampant. The Director of the Home, Ms Ratcher, spoke to the group: “Enjoy! We are in for a great treat today! I hope you all take the time to thank the folks from the food bank for a delicious brunch.”

“Yeah. Ok. Sure. Thanks a lot. Now, next time, could we please have hot chocolate and whipped cream?”

“And we like bacon. Crispy bacon. Not sausages.”

“Where’s the toast? No toast? We like raisin toast, with peanut butter.”

Ms Ratcher apologized to the food bank people. “So sorry, but there must be a full moon or something. Our Seniors are quite crotchety today.”

Wolf remarked, “No. No, we aren’t crotchety. We are always like this. Elderly folk are affected by the weather. And we have only seen the sun one day this month. And it is getting on our nerves. Besides, we wanted to get outside today, and have a picnic. Do you think you could get us some umbrellas? We would like to eat outside.”

“No, Wolf, you can’t eat outside. These good folks have gone to a lot of trouble, setting up this food. Please, sit down and enjoy.”

“Did you hear that Minnie? Now we are not allowed to go outside. This place is trying to kill us. I think we should file a law suit: Elderly abuse.”

“Forget it Wolf. You are just pissed off because of the Preakness. You picked a loser, once again, and you convinced us to put up 10 bucks each. Why did we ever listen to you? You don’t know @#%@## about horse racing.”

“I beg your pardon. That horse could have won, if he had a decent jockey. I think the race was fixed.”

“That horse is still running, you idiot. Never again! This was the last straw. We are never listening to you again.”

“Fine. Wonderful. Just don’t ask me about the Belmont. I have an inside tip. And my lips are sealed. This time, you jokers can lose your shirts, and kiss my lily white ass.”

“What do you mean, an inside tip? Come on. Tell us. We are your friends.”

“Nope. Like I said, sealed lips. Give me that umbrella. I feel a picnic coming on.”

The rain fell sideways. Wolf sat under her umbrella eating soggy eggs and sausage. The group glared at her from the dining room.

“She is so selfish. She knows who will win and won’t share. Let’s invite her to the Sports Bar later for a few glasses of wine. She will spill her lips and give us tips.”

“Yes! I can’t wait for the Belmont. Big winners, all of us!”

The group’s mood turned from crotchety to glee. They thanked the food bank people profusely and told them they would have a surprise for them in a few days. They would reveal the winning Belmont Stakes horse.


Here comes the sun…

It finally stopped raining. The residents of the Autumn Years Rest Home could hardly stand the excitement. They dressed up in their shorts and T shirts and went for a walk. Along the way….

A young girl was crying. She said her brother took her bike. She was lost and could not find her way back to her house. The group crowded around her, trying to console her broken heart.

“Don’t cry little one. We will help you. What’s your name?”

“None of your beeswax, you old farts. I want my bike and I want it now.”

“Whoa! Old farts? Come on now. We are trying to help you.”

“Go away. When I find my brother, I will beat him up and get my bike back.”

“Wait a minute. You said you were lost. What’s going on here?”

“Get lost you retards. I want my bike and I want to kick my brother’s ass.”

At that moment, a woman stormed out of a nearby house. “What’s going on here? Are you trying to abduct my kid? I have heard of your kind, a bunch of old gypsies, trying to kidnap a young girl, who is defenseless. Get the hell out of here.”

“Yes Mommy. These elderly folks were asking me where I lived. They are up to no good.”

“I am calling the police. How dare you try to intimidate my little girl. She is the sweetest little girl in the whole world.”

Wolf spoke up: “Hey hold on here. This sweet little girl called us old farts and retards and told us she is looking for her bike. And she would beat up her brother as soon as she found him.”

“Nonsense. She would never use that language. And she doesn’t have a bike nor a brother. Stay right where you are. I have the police on line.”

At that moment, a little boy rode by on his bike. The girl ran after him, forcing him off the road. She put up her dukes and beat him unmercifully.

The girl’s mother ran to the scene. She could not believe her eyes. “What did you do to irritate my little girl? How dare you? You were trying to run her over with your bike, weren’t you, you little demon. I am reporting you to the police.”

The boy was stunned. He said nothing, but was badly beaten.

The residents ran to his rescue. “Are you Ok? Can we help you?”

The little boy ran to his bike and took off.

The Seniors shook their heads and continued with their walk. They heard the mother saying, “Come on, Rhoda, let’s go inside. The world is not a safe place.”

Wolf turned to Minnie, and said,”Did you hear that? Her name is Rhoda.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Think about it Minnie. Rhoda! The Bad Seed!”


Concealed Identity

“Hey, Minnie. You coming with me? It’s the end of the world tomorrow, so let’s go girl. We are gonna boogie tonight.”

“You’re wrong Wolf. The end of the world is in 2012.”

“Are you waiting for that? We could be dead by then. Let’s go!”

“Nope. I don’t believe a word of it. All a bunch of goofs who decided that the rain was the sign of the end. Rubbish!”

All right. So what if the world doesn’t end tomorrow. We could have a blast tonight and not give a #%@#%.

“No way. I have to be at my best tomorrow. The ponies are running in the Preakness. I have to study the line up tonight. After all, I have 10 bucks to spend, and I intend to make a fortune.”

“Don’t spend another minute on it, Minnie. I already know who is going to win that race. So just give it a rest. We have a night of fun and games ahead of us.”

“Oh? So who is it? And how do you know who will win?”

“I will tell you, if and I mean, if, you go to the Sports Bar with me. I promise to reveal the winner.”

“Tell me now, and I might go. But I know you Wolf. You have no idea who will win.”

If I tell you, will you go?”

“Well, Ok. Who is it?

“Concealed Identity. An offspring of Shorty Jones. 30 to 1 odds. I will throw in another 10 bucks and we will collect $300 each.”

“Wow, Wolf. Are you sure?”

“Yes, Minnie. 100 percent sure. Get dressed girl, we’re burning day light.”

The girls walked to the Sports Bar and had several drinks. They told everyone about the horse. The patrons raced to the OTB to place their bets. The odds went down. And the Preakness?

To be continued……..


Butt naked pot heads

After a stressful day at work, Wolf limped into the Autumn Years Rest Home. The residents were eating dinner, mac and cheese and garlic bread.

“Hello everyone. Not mac and cheese again? What the hell? This is the third night of mac and cheese. What’s going on around here?”

“Our chef quit. And they hired a young kid to cook for us, temporarily, until a qualified cook can be found.”

“I had a very bad day. I need a substantial dinner. This is ridiculous. Where is the Director?”

“She had a date tonight, for dinner. She left her cell phone number, in case we need her.”

“Give me that number. I am going to call her and give her a piece of my mind.”

Wolf dialed the number and got Ms Ratcher’s voice mail. Her message was: “Hi. Miss Ratcher here. Leave a message and I will call you as soon as I can.”

“Can you believe this? Does anyone know where she went for dinner?”

“Of course we do. She left with the janitor, and we heard them saying they were going to his apartment.”

“Well, well, well. And do you know where that goof lives?”

“Sure. He lives 2 blocks away. He walks to work, since he is high on pot every morning and can’t drive.”

“Ok. Let’s box up this mac and cheese and walk over to his apartment. I think we need to confront this situation.”

Twenty two residents walked two blocks to the janitor’s apartment. They rang the bell, and waited. Nothing. They rang again, and again, and again. Finally, they heard a male voice, saying, “Uhm, Uhm, hey man, what you want?”

“Open this door right now, you idiot. Or we will call the coppers and have them search your place for weed.”

The janitor reluctantly opened the door. He was butt naked and high as a kite. The residents poured into the room, and saw Ms Ratcher stretched out on the couch, in disarray. Well, you know what I mean.

“Oh my God. What the hell? What do you want? This is an invasion of my privacy.”

“All we want is a decent meal. No more mac and cheese. Either you pop for dinner or we will report you to the board, the police and the media. Get a decent cook and provide us old fogies with great meals every night, starting now.”

Miss Ratcher stuttered, “Sure. Sure. Of course. What would you like tonight?”

“Steak and lobster. And a nice salad. And make it snappy.”

Miss Ratcher ordered turf and surf for 22 and asked the residents to leave, to go back to the home, and wait for the delivery.

Wolf spoke up and said, “And pot. Enough pot to go around. And we might reconsider…..unless of course, you object.”

“Oh no. No objections. You want pot, you got pot.”

Wolf remarked, “Oh by the way, here is your dinner: Mac and cheese, cold as ice. Enjoy!”

The residents enjoyed the lobster, steak and pot. They decided they wanted prime rib tomorrow. And more pot. The janitor decided to join the group for dinner. He was butt naked and so were all the residents.


Do Brains have tendons?

The rain continues……now over 8 days. The residents of the Autumn Years Rest Home are restless. Rain can play games with your mind. And what about Seniors? Well… are their comments:

“We might as well live in Seattle. This is outrageous.”

“I hear the suicide rate in Washington is higher than any other state. Rain gets on your nerves. It works its black magic and destroys the tendons of your brain.”

“Tendons of your brains? What the hell are you talking about? Brains don’t have tendons.”

“And who says we don’t like rain? I love rain. It cleanses the soul.”

“Well, you can have it. I am sick of it. I am depressed. I need the sun.”

“Depressed? Because of the rain? I am depressed, but the rain has nothing to do with it. I am tired of mac and cheese again for dinner.”

“My depression is at its height. I love mac and cheese, but Survivor is over for another season.”

“Who cares? We can watch re-runs. I am depressed over Charlie Sheen and Arnold.”

“Charlie? That goof? And Arnold? That womanizer? I think you need to get a reality check. Charlie and Arnold are not connected with our lives, so who cares?”

“I wonder if Arnold really is the father of that kid. Do you really think he would give up Maria for a housekeeper?”

“You all are crazy. The real news is that THE Donald is not running for president.”

“He isn’t?”

“Nope. He said so, today.”
“Now that is great news!. Thank God we won’t have a President Trump. You know he could buy his way into the presidency, if he wanted to.”

“But he won’t. He has too many ex wives to support.”

“So Charlie is out, Arnold is toast and THE Donald is not running. What the hell? We should be celebrating.”

Wolf went to her room and brought out 6 bottles of champagne. The residents toasted to the good news. The rain continued, and flooded the surrounding area. The Seniors turned off the TV, and brought out old records. They danced and sang to an old favorite: Gene Kelly, Singing in the Rain.

The next day it rained. No one showed up for mac and cheese. They were hung over. Wolf doled out alka seltzers. The weather forecast for the weekend? More rain. Minnie and Wolf walked in the soggy weather to the liquor store and bought more champagne. The residents secretly hoped the rain would never stop.