For the last hour or so, I have been waiting for my daughter to show.  She’s supposed drop by with my medication and some groceries, and she had better do it quick, because the cupboards and the refrigerator are damn near empty.  I look at the clock and it reads ten A.M.  She always comes by at nine; it even says so on that dumb “Memory Board” my nurse has posted in every room of my house.  “Friday at nine A.M.-Jenny visits.”

I think Jenny gets me my food. I am pretty certain that she brings me the medication because I am legally in her care. The goddamn courts want me in a nursing home because of my “public disturbances”, but my Jenny has a good lawyer who can really cook the books and get things in order. I must say, as a retired attorney myself, I couldn’t have done better.  He would make her a fine husband, especially as long as he can keep me in the house that I paid off years ago. To think that a bunch of crooked bureaucrats can throw an honest veteran who pays his taxes out of his own castle is preposterous.

That would never work. Jenny is one of those lesbian-types, so I suppose her marrying that lawyer is not in the near future.  That’s something I keep forgetting.  Sometimes, it’s almost as if I hear it for the first time and I end up confronting her about it all over again. We must have argued like cats and dogs at least twenty times over the subject by now. In the end, I always accept her decisions. It’s a “new day” we always agree and that usually puts things in the right place again. I need to make sure that I remember this when she gets here.

Magda. Magda gets me the medication. She’s my nurse. Jenny delivers the food and Magda gets me my meds. Where the fuck is she, by the way? Looking over on the end table, I see that my pill boxes are all empty except for two capsules. If she doesn’t get here today, I’m calling that damn hospital. I’m telling the doctor on her, and I’m having her fired.  I can hardly understand her anyway. She’s Polish or something.  Cute little lady, but I can’t make out her accent sometimes.  Can’t understand why a Vietnam veteran like me would have a Communist for a nurse, but so much doesn’t make sense anymore, that I would rather just watch TV and sleep.  Maybe that’s all part of this “new day”.

According to the Memory Board in the kitchen, Magda was supposed to be here yesterday to refill the prescriptions and she’ll be back again today at five P.M. to check up on my situation and cook my dinner.  She makes the best ravioli and sometimes she makes these things called pierogis that are kind of like ravioli except they are full of potatoes. I’ve never heard of them before. Must be what Communists eat, or something.  Hopefully, she’ll make those tonight, now that I mention it.  Either way, she wasn’t here yesterday like she was supposed to be, and I’m running out of meds. Frankly, this just pisses me off.  If I don’t have those prescriptions tonight, I’m liable to go wandering around the neighborhood naked as a jaybird, and this time, not even Jenny’s lawyer will keep me out of one of those vile nursing homes. It’ll all be Magda’s fault.  She was probably out partying with a bunch of boys the whole night and couldn’t be bothered with an old fart like me.

The line to the hospital is a constant recording: “Due to a heavy call volume, we cannot take your call at this time. Please hang up and try again later for the next available operator. We apologize for this inconvenience.”  Goddamn robot. I must have tried the line at least ten times in the last half hour.  Why don’t they let me remain on hold instead of having to hang up every time? Looks like the entire hospital is full of people like Magda. This world is going to hell. My daughter is funny, my nurse is a Communist slut, and the hospital is out of order. I can’t believe I flew a Stuka for Adolph Hitler in the Big One just so society could end up like this. A “new day”-pathetic.  I’ll try that damn hospital again later, and when I get through, my doctor is getting an earful. It’s too late to call my daughter, because she’s at work now, and she won’t give me her office number because she knows I’ll bother her for every little issue I come across. She’s probably right about that.

When all else fails, I like to turn to the idiot box. Being a retired biologist, I like all those nature shows. Especially the ones with the sharks. They have these young men going down into the deep swimming around in chainmail armor. Every time I watch one of those programs, I keep expecting one of those boys to get a chunk taken out of them, but it never happens that way. A couple of close-calls, but they always come up with hardly a scratch. My favorite show is that one where all these kids are locked in this big house and all these young girls strut around half naked. This Chinese lady who acts kind of like a robot makes them compete in all these silly games for prizes and privileges. Usually, the games involve a pool or a hot tub and the girls have to get in these skimpy bikinis. One time, this blonde with big titties got so excited because she won a contest, that she lost her top while jumping for joy. The goddamn censors blurred out her nipples, so I couldn’t see all her goods. I got so mad that I threw my pudding cup at the screen and Magda had to clean it off. Now and then, I wonder what Magda would look like in a bikini. Where is she anyway?

News. Horror movie. News. News. Another horror movie. It’s only half past noon and they are showing this crap on TV. During October, the stations like to air horror movies at odd hours on account of it being Halloween, but looking at the calendar, it’s only April. Maybe it’s some sort of an April Fool’s joke. Some of those horror movies they’re playing are pretty disgusting. They look just like the news casts, except there are a bunch of crazy people biting each other. It must be some Japanese thing. Lots of blood and screaming. It all gives me a headache. Personally, I don’t like watching these kinds of shows now that the house is empty and creaking, because they give me the creeps- even in the daytime. The movies that are on today are especially a bother because they look so real. The studios must be paying some big salaries to those makeup artists, because it looks spot-on like the carnage I was forced to see when I fought in Korea.

I hope the purple dinosaur show comes on soon. I like to watch it with my mommy and we sing all the songs together. All my favorite tunes are on that show, just like we sing at school, but better.  I’ll go to the kitchen and let her know that it’s almost time for the show and then we can eat lunch afterward. When I go to the bathroom to wash-up, I look in the mirror and see an old man. A decrepit old man.  Weak with thinning hair. Mom’s been dead for years.  I hate it when I have to remember this. It happens almost every goddamn day.  Sometimes, it’s like I learn about her death for the first time and I break down for hours. Since I am a retired paleontologist, it’s no wonder I would like that stupid show.  I wish Magda would get over here.

The TV is off, but I still hear all that racket that was coming from one of those dumb horror movies. Yelling and groaning. Looking outside my window, all I see is an empty street under a clear blue sky. Nice day. Everybody must be at work. There aren’t any cars in the driveways and nobody is rolling down the way.  Out on my porch, there is no mail or newspaper yet. What with that new mailman, I sometimes don’t get the mail until almost supper, but the newspaper is always here every morning. Usually Magda or Jenny brings it in for me. Maybe one of those damn kids down the street took my paper.  If they want it so bad they can just ask me for it when I am done.  Something is strange about today. Everything is very still. Except for that moaning, I don’t hear anything. Not even birds.  Why can’t those kids leave me alone? Out on my back porch it’s the same story. Not a peep. If those brats don’t stop harassing me with their ruckus, I’m going to call the police. I don’t have the patience for this shit.

The police are the same deal as the hospital. I suppose they have more to attend to than some little bastards playing jokes on an old man, but I pay my taxes! Back when I was a police officer, I would never let even the small things slide. Nothing got past me. All the lawbreakers in this town knew that they didn’t stand a chance against my long arms.  This time the recording sounds like a black woman. I hang up.

It sounds like those little bastards recruited some friends, because now there is more moaning. Maybe they are a bunch of those hippies having some of that free love in my backyard.  I’ll be goddamned if the backyard is as quiet as a mouse. Everything remains stone-still.  According to the clock, it’s almost four P.M. and there isn’t even a cricket chirping. Why aren’t there any children coming home from school?  Shouldn’t those sons of bitches bothering me be in school? Maybe they should get a job. I poke my head out the back door and yell that suggestion with as much power as my old lungs will allow and slam the door shut just to pack in the message. That ought to do it. Maybe I used to smoke, but I can’t really remember if I did.

I’m so damn hungry.  I forgot that I haven’t eaten today.  Where is Jenny and my food? When Magda gets here in a few minutes, she won’t have anything to cook and I need to eat with my medication.  I could boil that last egg I have in the refrigerator, but I remember that the hospital put a lock on my stove so I don’t burn the house down. Only Magda and Jenny have the goddamn key.  There isn’t any booze left either because the doctors won’t let me have alcohol. Looking outside again, I see that night is coming soon. The sky looks kind of like a rare steak, and seeing it only makes me even hungrier. It’s been awhile since I’ve had good meat like that. The mailman still hasn’t shown.

That does it. I have been having a terrible day. I’m so tired. According to the clock, Magda is late and Jenny is already off work, and still no sign of her. They can take their dear sweet time getting here to do their jobs. I don’t care anymore, I’m so beat. They can work around my schedule now. Since I’ve been waiting for them all day, they can wait on me all damn night. My daughter is as queer as a football bat, my nurse is a Commie, the hospital and police are full of lazy bastards, and the TV censors the titties and plays nothing but those God-awful horror movies. There is something else bothering me, but I can’t remember what it is, and hopefully I don’t.  I’m going upstairs to take a nap and I’ll get up when I feel like it. When I do get up, if they don’t have my dinner ready and my medication stocked, I’m going outside buck-naked and letting the whole neighborhood know what a real man looks like. Just to prove that I’m a nice guy, I’ll leave the door unlocked and I’ll keep the lights on.

FIN.