Sitting by a fireplace, puffing my cigar, I watch the smoke swirl through my cottage as the mouthpiece of the tobacco sits on my thin, cracked lips.
My thoughts engulf me, only disturbed by my housekeeper.
“Sir, your breakfast is ready!” she screams from the other room.
“What?” I yell.
“Breakfast!” she screams back with a heavy croaking voice like a lousy vocalist.
Melon, my housekeeper, walks in with my breakfast: a plate of freshly smoked salmon and a glass of brandy—a drink that has helped keep my mean body frame.
“I wonder when you will stop having brandy for breakfast,” she mumbles between her discoloured teeth.
“What?” I ask because I am short of hearing.
“This is why you should not have brandy for breakfast; your marbles are collecting dust!”
“My dear, I have weathered the storm; I deserve this.”
Melon raised her eyebrows upon hearing my response. She opted to leave my room, giving this senior citizen a sight of her backside to behold.
As Melon steps out, I reach for my hearing aid. Being deaf as a bat, I need those ridiculous things in my ear to make any sense of the world. After putting them on, I picked up the sharp strut of stiletto shoes. My eyes work better than my ears, so I look at the door and anticipate it opening.
“Good morning,”
The relaxing voice of my young wife massages my wrinkled ears. She steps in, holding the designer bag I bought her to replace the previous designer bag I bought her. She may lean toward the finer things of life, but I am gladly married to a spring chicken of a woman. As I weather the storm and gain more wrinkles each day, her job is reduced to good morning and goodnight kisses.
My wife loves to talk. So she rumbled about the latest gossip from her circle of friends without accounting for her absence through the night. Only God knew where she went off to after sunset, but at this stage, I am too exhausted to entertain the reality of her finding greener pastures—I would not blame her! After all, I have weathered the storm, and my marbles are collecting some dust.
On the other hand, Melon has been good company. She somehow can still stir me up and make my blood boil, especially when I watch her walk away.
I am a dinosaur wandering about in his seventh marriage. Even at 90 years old, I still have the wandering eye that got me into trouble over the years, and this time it settled on Melon. I know she senses my intrigue, otherwise, she wouldn’t give me a majestic show each time she walks away from me.
My body is a letdown—a fossil worthy of a museum. It has weathered many storms so well that Melon is now a faraway beauty that can only please my eyes.
My wife continues to rumble about who did what and who stole whose man. It’s a shame that this is where I’d wind up. I have indeed weathered the storms and dozed off to Lala Land.
Keep smiling
Holistic Hazel