“Let me guess...you're the first person in your family without a tail right?” said Griffen Liberty and 82 year old ex-musician resident of the Vertigo Village that was the place he was going to die in as he addressed the male nurse who was cleaning and tidying up his room on a sunny Saturday afternoon.
“I see you are in fine form today Mr Liberty” replied Frank the nurse who always had insults in all shapes and forms hurled at him from this one patient who was still in control of his bodily functions and sarcasm.
“Yep, sure am...and it's almost time for me to leave this Polyp Palace for greener pastures and better drugs if you get my drift” said Griffen reaching for the tv remote and switching on and waiting for the football match to start so he could successfully fall asleep and and have a nana nap before he started planning his birthday bash.
“Frank...your only chance of ever getting laid is to crawl up a chickens ass....and wait ya know that don’t you?” said Griffen patiently waiting for the tv to spring into glorious B&W so he could sleep.
Frank smiled slightly and closed the door behind him as he left to do the next elderly citizens room.
Being old was a right royal pain in the ass. His mind was still active and lucid but his body kept letting him down and all he wanted to do was get out of this Coronary Chateau he was put in by his kids because they didn’t want him living with any of them...and this hurt him terribly.
Made him quite bitter actually and he hated his kids as a result. In his room was an old nylon string guitar that he sometimes picked up and played but now it just filled him with memories that were fun but once he stopped picking the strings and he stared around his tiny yellow painted room the anxiety and the depression came back to haunt him.
So the ventures into filling his room with music from his old nylon string guitar covered in colourful stickers were few and far between now. It just bought up to much grief and for him at this stage of his life...life was getting shorter by the hour.
Thank god the footy started and he closed his eyes while on his bed listening to the commentators describe the teams and in no time flat he was asleep dreaming of concerts with loud amps and beautiful guitars, very appreciative women and an excess of illegal drugs to fuel ones feelings of invincibility.
Ahhh the good old days.
After 2 hours of sleep, one footy game that he completely missed watching he reached inside the small table next to his bed and fossicked around for his old phone book. He made a list of the mates that weren’t dead and their phone numbers and set about preparing a 'get together' with these people at the Deathview Villas he was staying at...and all the things he wanted to do to these people who treated him with contempt just because he was old and some one else needed his bed to die on.
This was going to be very interesting and well worth the effort.
He looked at his guitar as the sun shone through the window on it and he knew the strings were now out of tune because of the heat applied to them...but his mind wasn’t.
Time to get busy!!