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.