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Amusement and ADD

“Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right. Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.”

Sipping coffee.

Surrounded on both sides by borderline weird.

On my right, is old, plain and simple.

This couple is so old, you cannot figure out how old they are.

Old enough that I didn’t realize there were people that old out there.  (Contemplated several “Farts dust” comments and decided against.)

They did not use the seats that came with the table.

They roll with their own seats. (Literally. Their walkers have built in seats.)

And the weird thing was, they didn’t have to move the chairs that were in the way, they just kind of disappeared.

They rolled up to the table and people just kind of grabbed the chairs and moved them.

No words were exchanged.

And the old folks said nothing.

They just sat and sipped tea.

Starbucks just became the afterlife’s waiting room.

I am waiting for the Grim Reaper to walk in and ask if the chair across from me is open.

And on the other side…

“What is so important, Chuckie?” The voice is tired, and the conversation just started. You have to wonder why.

“Charles, please.” Being corrected by a decidedly effeminate voice holds it own special brand of annoying.

“Fine, Charles.” The sigh is a gimme. “What is so important?” (I present the rest of the conversation without my comments, to preserve the integrity of the art.)

“The power is out at my apartment.”

“When did this happen?”

“2 days ago.”

“2 days?!?! Dude! What did you do about it?”

“I have sent the management company several texts.”

“Texts? So you have been living in the dark for 48 hours? Did you check the breakers?”

“I don’t know what those are.”

“Chuckie, you are fucking useless.”
“It’s Charles. Stop being crude and help me.”

“Why are we meeting here? Why not have me meet you at your place?”

“I just couldn’t even today.”

“What the hell does that mean anyway?”

“I would call you a menace, but you lack the ambition.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“Yeah, I will help you. Fuck you are useless.”

“Belittling me is not helping.”

“I’m just amazed. Fucking amazed. Fine, lets go.”

“We can’t yet.”

“Why?”

“I’m waiting for a caramel macchiato.”

“Oh my God!”

Now, for a little scenery.

“Chuckie” Has the little brother feel to him. His hands are soft and you can tell that whatever he does for a living, its not strenuous and he rarely breaks a sweat.

“Older Brother” is dressed in a vintage AC/DC t-shirt and shorts with work boots. His hands have the look of a construction worker.

The two look enough alike that they have to be brothers.

Except for one thing.

Older brother is thin and maybe 5’3.

Chucker appears to be 6 foot plus.

The genetic keno game odds on this one boggles the mind.

It was at this point that one of the old folks on the other side of me, remember them? Anyway, one of them, no clue who, farted pretty loudly.

The wife looked across at the husband.

“What?”

I sipped my coffee and looked straight ahead.

“Clowns to the left me…”

 
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Posted by on July 21, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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Till death do we part.

“You aren’t listening to me, are you?” (Angry)

“What?” (Too loud)

“You never listen to me, do you?” (Angrier)

“What?” (Louder)

“I could drop dead and you wouldn’t lift a finger to help me, would you?” (Kind of a simmering cold anger that is even worse.)

“What?” (Like a freight train, brutal and unstoppable.)

There is a magical kind of drama, and drama is such an inadequate word, to a couple that have been married and lasted long enough to grow REALLY old together to the point of hatred.

It is awesome to behold.

They hate each other, they really do.

But divorce is not even in their vocabulary, not a chance.

Love, honor, cherish, till death do they part.

The only thing left is the Till Death part.

And they are both waiting, nay HOPING, that the other dies soon.

It is a vile and beautiful thing to witness.

She looks a lot like the Crypt keeper from that old horror show. (Google it, I’ll wait.)

Got the visual?

He has a look of permanent terror on his face.

He has been seated the whole time I have been observing him and the missus, but I am willing to bet he takes 2 inch steps when he walks.

We are a weaker generation that we think Fuck You is the ultimate verbal attack.

There is a true gladiator’s feel to the skill of a true Fuck You conversation.

I am in awe.

This pair of wrinkled old warriors are lions, to be feared and respected.

This kind of fight is not a sprint, its a marathon and you cross the finish line when you opponent keels over.

I am in a dark place right now, and its a brutal place, scary and forbidding that makes you look at the beauty of a long time marriage and then stew in these kind of seriously vile thoughts.

And salvation is just around the corner, in the form of coffee.

Hot and fresh and available for just pennies.

Live is good, sun is out, birds are chirping, and the adorable old couple could not be cuter.

I love caffeine as a drug, it can fill the tank in a ridiculously short amount of time.

Addiction, with cream and two splendas.

And then they try to chip away at my drug induced Dome of Solitude.

“Did you hear what I said?” (Its him being angry this time.)

“What?” (She is truly playing this card.)

“I just told you something!” (Angrier.)

“What?” (This is a masterstroke of the fuck you genre of hot mess replies.)

“Ah, you are to old to talk to!” (He even waved his hand at her in dismissal. I almost shit myself trying to keep from laughing.)

“What?” (Now I KNOW they are just fucking with me. You could see this scene playing itself out as if it was written on a page.)

But it has not touched my euphoria.

And I am leaving before I am sucked into the vortex of negativity.

Because if you ungrateful shits know anything about me, you know that I am all about being positive.

I try to keep the bad stuff from staining my Disney-like purity and innocence.

Outside, there is a breeze, on the chilly side, but the sun is out. Low 70’s with a wind chill.

I am dressed in Southern California winter wear.

Shorts, running shoes, and a hooded winter coat.

Mmmmm good coffee.

 

(Here is how twisted up my head is. I have been laughing for the last 5 minutes because of the line immediately above this one. All of that shit, then “Mmmmm, good coffee.”  Once again, it occurs to me that this blog is a lot of the time, just for me.)

 

 
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Posted by on November 20, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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