by on January 27, 2017 :: 0 comments

photo "Antiqued" (above) by Tyler Malone aka The Second Shooter

Buick. Nice polish. Oops. My key fell and scratched the paint job. Stupid rich folks.

Camera. Burnt orange. Dumb color. Will they notice this new line on their windshield?

Asinine Volvo. Fancy Shmancy. Look at that! So many bags from senseless stores. So much money wasted! Oops! I think they now have a slow leak in one of their front tires.

Hmmm. No parking zone. Absurd! I need parked cars. This city’s half-witted!

Ooh. That’s a nice car. Zenvo, I think. Weird looking, but what a beast! Daddy wanted one. Ha! In his dreams! He drank up his wherewithal. Black with navy detail. Very sophisticated. Here’s another detail. I wonder if they’ll detect it.

Wait! There’s a purse inside. Looks like money spilling out. Hmmm. The door’s not locked. That’s crazy stupid. Someone could help themselves. Someone should. Look at that sunhat under that purse. I fancy that, too. It can go right here, in my walker’s hanging basket.

Look at that! A Bentley! Don’t see too many of them. I guess this really is an upscale neighborhood. Oh no, look at that sticker. What nerve! I would never vote for him.

Volkswagon bus? That’s confusing. Maybe one of these folks has hippy-dippy kids. I hate its shade of green, but it gets a free pass. I’ll just walk by. Whoa! Not so fast. Smell that? There might be people inside. Asinine kids.

A Honda? Here? Not scratching that. It probably belongs to someone working too hard for too little money-a gardener or a house cleaner busting themselves while the local oafs sit on their wazoos.

Twizzler wrapper? Yum! None left? Idiots! Oops, maybe that smear will come off of the window with a little scraping.

Toyota? I hate those cars. How’s a man supposed to take a constitutional without the sort of help those fancy folks get, when surrounded by such ugliness? I might as well walk in the mall. Stupid color, too. Stupid Japanese. Shelton went over during the war, but never came back. A dead twin’s no good.

Ah. Crosswalk. At ease soldier. Yes, I’m talking to you, my walker. I think when we get over the next curb, I’ll need your pulldown seat.

Ford pickup? I’ve truly crossed over. No more rich digs here. Love that brownish hue. Nice gun rack, too. Oh well. Oops. Look-my pocketknife accidentally fell into the truck’s bed. I can’t be blamed for needing to retrieve it.

Sleeping German Shepard? Stupid. I’ll call an ambulance on my cell phone. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Yeah, thanks, mister.” How could I’ve lost my cell phone? “Yeah, thanks.” Nice of him to wait ‘til they pick me up and to use his swell tie as a tourniquet. Most youth are wooden-heads.

“No. No sir. I think the dog was hungry.” Stupid police. Why did they have to show up? Car alarm? For a muddy truck? What’s this guy have that he needs guns, a dog, and an alarm?

“Yes, that purse is my sister’s. I was taking it to her.” Zelda Brownsman? Well, at least they’ll have to wait until I get to the hospital—the ambulance is here.

“Diabetic. No, no bracelet. Insurance card. Want it? Please don’t forget my walker.” Stupid ambulance. I’d give it eight years, if not ten. Certainly not the newest model. Wish they hadn’t tied me in.

“Junior, watch those hands! I’m not high. I have no weapons. My safety, you say? That’s laughable. I’m an old man, but I won’t fall off this thing.”

Stupid first responder. Bet he flunked out of premed.

“Glasses. Mine. Hand ‘em over. What do you mean that my walker and all of the things hanging on it were confiscated?” Stupid kids. Can’t even do proper first aid.

“Hold on! That’s not the ER, that’s the psych unit. Steer me toward the elevator, please.”

“The dog? No foam. No temper. Why’d ya have to put ‘em down? My daughter? No, please don’t call her. My purse? That’s hers. Don’t use the numbers you found in there, they’re private.” Stupid nurses. Stupid police. Stupid admitting physicians.

Ow! I thought they numb you before they suture.

“No, not the grandkids. Don’t call ‘em. It’ll freak ‘em out to see me here. The twins? Oh, I mean, sure, the twins. But they should stay home.”

And no Novocain after the suturing? Crazy place. Get me out!

“Officer, that’s mistaken. I was a boy scout and a choir boy, even taught Sunday School. My brother served. I was a high school teacher, a gym teacher. You’ve get the wrong guy.”

First the ward, then cuffs? “See here, I’m retired. A good citizen. Even a car enthusiast.”

editors note:

Hop in, we promise we’ll take you to madness as quickly as possible and invade the safest of private places. And if you see a body, don’t worry, after the first you’ll see more than a few. ~ tyler malone

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