There was a meeting of retired educators at my school today and as I walked down to the teacher restroom the meeting was let out. I entered the little boys' room followed by a small cadre of grayhairs. Honestly, it made me a little uncomfortable. I tend to get a little nervous when a group of people of similar appearance and dress follow me into an area out of public view. As I urinated, I was serenaded by the stuttering tinkle of ancient prostates and I fought off the image of myself being shanked with diabetes testing supplies. I knew if these guys jumped me the cops wouldn't even be able to find my killers through DNA evidence, partly because the people here don't really believe in DNA (science = Satan) and old people all share the same set of DNA. Plus, all old people look the same.
Luckily this set just wanted to spend a couple dozen minutes emptying their bladders before going to lunch, but you never can tell. There should probably be some sort of law keeping old people from moving in packs.
3 comments:
I have it on good authority their bones are fragile. I'm pretty sure if you got in one good kick to the knees, you could get away.
And old guys also tend to talk to you while peeing; that's the real horror. I don't like to talk to a stranger in any situation, let alone while he and I each have a handful of penis.
Glad to hear the old dudes didn't gang up on you. Being that you're in South Georgia, though, I think there are decent odds that one of them had a pistol in his pocket, don't you think?
Post a Comment