He Never Left

Credit: Google Search

I sit in the chair as I usually do Tuesday mornings. People walk by. Busy. Busy busy busy, but they don’t stop for me. No siree, no one ever pays attention to me at this nursing home. There are plenty of others that need attending to though. I’m not one of them.

I stare straight ahead at the old rabbit-eared television set. No one ever bothers to change it out for something. Maybe they think it brings all us old folks a sense of nostalgia. That’s a bunch of bull. It does nothing but remind me I’m old and in a nursing home. But, since no one pays attention to me, I just sit here and watch the grainy golf tournament, not really caring who wins. These things are rigged anyway.

An older gal shuffles over to my seat and sits down on my lap. I frown. She might be good-looking, but now I can’t see the TV. “Mind getting off my lap?” I grumble.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she pulls out these huge knitting needles and starts working on a scarf.

I grumble some more, calling her the worst names in the book. The Bible woulda burned if there’d been one around. The old whore still doesn’t move so I swat at her hair.

She shivers and pulls her shawl around her.

I poke her right in her side, pull on her hair, but she just moves a little or pats down her hair as if nothing’s happening. Outta frustration, I swat at her backside. I mean, she’s a good-looking gal. Why wouldn’t I? Plus, I need her outta my seat.

She jumps up, looking back down at the couch. When she looks there isn’t anything there. No one ever notices me in this goddamn place.

A humorous piece to make up for my missed post last Friday.


2 thoughts on “He Never Left”

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