Old man

In the morning you go gunning for the man who stole your water.
                                                                              -Steely Dan


I have been old for so long now that I can’t remember anything else. These people I live with here are a constant reminder that I am going to die in this home. They drag us out to eat. Some of us can play games. Most just watch TV.

I take thirty pills a day to live. I’m ninety years old and without thirty damn pills a day, I wouldn’t last a week. This in my opinion is an encouraging thought. Just loose your damn bills and find a nice place to die. I want to die on the road, driving off a steep cliff.

I never got to climb a mountain when I was young. Of all the things I regret, that is on the top of the list. I should have made it my goal in life to climb that mountain, because now it will never get done. I don’t remember what my kids look like.

There’s three of them I know that. I have two boys and a girl. No, that’s not right, that’s the grandkids, there’s ah Bill, Joe, and Sara. Yes, those are their names. I haven’t seen my family in over a year. I don’t think they love me.    

I can’t remember razing them; I most have not been a very good father. I am past feeling sorry for myself. I just see things the way they are now. Its better they don’t visit, I watch other people visit, and I don’t want that hell.

There are very few children of the elderly that send more then thirty minutes a mouth with their parent or grandparent. I am one of lucky one that gets no visits. The shitty thing about it is that this puts me on constant suicide watch. At my age I might just kick off anyway, but they think that I’m a risk for slitting my wrist in the tub. Ha, the dumb fuckers.

All I have in a day is one good dump, three share meals and a long nap. And I don’t even get enough privacy to jerk off. We used to have dances, but then they canceled them.
Too many people here were going back to their rooms and fucking. You know the old sideways polka. A little of the old in out in out.

Well my chances of getting any pussy here now are slim to none. And god would I kill for a beer, just a sip would do me. This place is a prison for the dying. The crime committed was not living. I should have dyed on a mountain at the age of 18.

Everyday is a gift you can’t give back. A clown came over here one time to cheer us up. He got right in my face with that laughing they do, making balloon animals and popping them right in front of you. With those stupid magic tricks they do. And making a big damn mess everywhere. I waited for him to get right in my face again. Then POW! I punched him right in the nose. Knocked the son of a bitch, clean out.

So they keep a close eye on me. And I watch them right back. Because honestly there is nothing else better to do. Except planning my escape, I think about getting out of here all the time. What’s the worst that could happen? They catch me and bring me back, they sure as hello can’t add to my time. I’m a lifer.