Copyright ? 2018 by Tara Sivec
* * *
All rights reserved.
* * *
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chocolate and Cockup
“HOLY SHIT, COCKSUCKING MOTHERFUCKER!”
My body jolts and my heart starts racing when the scream from the padded lounge chair next to mine interrupts the beautiful, peaceful morning. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, I turn my head and glare at the man sitting next to me.
“Dammit, Drew. You made me mess up my crocheting. Can we keep the noise level down to at least a three? Right now, you’re at toddler throwing a hissy fit level. People are staring.”
Drew gapes at me with wide eyes and an even wider dropped-open mouth as I attempt to fix the stitch I just botched when he scared the hell out of me.
“What the hell, shit stick, you woke me up from my nap,” my best friend Liz complains from her chair on the other side of Drew.
Liz leans forward and rubs the sleep out of her eyes before giving Drew the same annoyed glare I did.
“How am I gonna stay awake for bingo tonight without my mid-morning nap? Virginia Albright has won three weeks in a row. This was my week, asshole. The grand prize was a bus trip to the casino. You suck.”
Drew just continues to blink rapidly at both of us, before he gets his own bodily jolt when our friend Jim pops up from the other side of Liz.
And when I say ‘pops up’, I mean that sarcastically. Jim has a bad back. He basically just slowly lurches forward with a loud groan.
“What’s going on? What happened? Where are we?” Jim mutters, looking around in confusion.
“We’re at the retirement community, out by the pool, sweetie. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s time for your blood pressure medication,” Liz tells her husband.
Jim lets out another groan as he lays back down in his chair, crosses his arms over his chest and goes back to sleep.
“Where’s Jenny?! Where the hell is my wife?! JENNNNNNNNY!” Drew suddenly shouts.
Liz reaches over the arm of her chair and smacks him in the arm, then points a few feet away to a grassy area next to the pool, where Jenny is lying on her back, rocking from side-to-side as she stares up at the clouds.
“She’s fine. She’s frolicking in the grass,” Liz tells him.
“Uh, I don’t think she’s frolicking. I believe she’s fallen, and she can’t get up. Liz, go help her up. You know she’ll just lay there all damn day without asking anyone for help,” I sigh.
“Why the hell do I have to help her up? I helped her up last time. It’s your turn.”
“Fuck off, and go help her up before she gets a sunburn,” I argue.
After lifting her arthritic finger in the air and flipping me off, Liz gets out of her chair with a moan as we all hear a few of her bones creak and pop with the effort it takes for her to move.
“You’re alive,” Drew whispers in astonishment, looking around at all of us, including my husband, Carter, who is still peacefully snoring in the chair next to mine.
He better thank me later for telling him to turn down the volume on his hearing aid before he settled in for his nap. He gets to continue enjoying the quiet morning while I have to deal with whatever shit show is about to happen with Drew.
“Uh, yes. I’m alive. What the hell is wrong with you?” I mutter, shaking my head in annoyance when I realize I’m going to have to undo this entire row of stitches to fix the mess I made of the scarf I was crocheting for Carter.
“I had a dream. A bad dream. An awful dream. We were all dead. You, me, Jenny, Liz, Jim, and Carter. Holy fuck, it was so real. You and Carter died in your sleep on your 75th wedding anniversary after a celebratory game of Metamucil pong. Liz and Jim kicked the bucket on their 78th wedding anniversary from heart attacks when they tested out an entire new shipment of vibrators. Jenny died in the parking lot of the emergency room, next to our personalized parking space, when she slipped on a sheet of ice trying to dislodge a whisk from her vagina and hit her head, which caused her to swallow the ball from the ball gag my arthritic fingers were unable to remove, and she choked to death. I died from a heart attack overexerting myself giving her CPR.”
When Drew finally finishes rambling, I roll my eyes at him as I set my knitting down in my lap. I’d like to say that the things coming out of my friend’s mouth surprise me, but they don’t. At all. Over the years, he’s said plenty of insane things and honestly, this dream he had, while ridiculous, sounds exactly like the way each of us could potential die someday.
Hello. My name is Claire Ellis, and I hate old people.
God, that sounds awful, but I’m allowed to say it because I’m one of those old people. I like myself just fine; it’s other old people who get on my last damn nerve. Like Drew. And everyone else we live with in the lovely retirement community of Park Summit in Coral Springs, Florida.
“It was just a dream, Drew,” I remind him as he continues to breathe so hard and fast that I’m afraid he might have a panic attack.
“How the fuck are you so calm?! WE WERE ALL DEAD! Six feet under. Gone. Vanished. Never to walk this earth again. Never to have sex again...” he trails off, pressing his hand against his chest. “Oh, God. No more sex. This is it. I’m having a heart attack. The dream was false. I won’t die hovering over my wife while she chokes on a ball gag. I’m gonna die surrounded by old people knitting, playing shuffleboard, taking naps, and every other boring, old people shit everyone around here does!”
“Drew, we’re in our seventies. We live in a retirement community. This is what retirement looks like. Quiet and peaceful,” I remind him, glancing around at the beautiful scenery that surrounds us.
When Drew needed hip replacement surgery a few years ago after he and his wife Jenny went a little overboard with trying out things in the Kama Sutra book, he found out his doctor had moved down here to Coral Springs. Naturally, Drew followed him for the surgery. After the hip replacement, his doctor set him up in the rehabilitation area of Park Summit. We all came down to visit him and immediately fell in love with the place.
My best friend Liz and I started a business back when we were in our twenties called Seduction and Snacks, which is a combination sex toy store and bakery. Our friend Jenny was hired on to handle marketing and promotions for us. After decades of working our asses off, opening up franchises of Seduction and Snacks all over the United States, and then eventually handing the bulk of the business over to our kids when they became adults, visiting Drew at Park Summit made us realize it was time to slow down, trust our kids to take care of the business, and just relax. The six of us moved here permanently three months after we visited Drew, and we’ve been here ever since.
Park Summit has everything you could ever need. We each have our own two-bedroom condo, and they offer a library, fitness center, beauty salon and spa, fun activities, beautifully landscaped grounds with a swimming pool and Jacuzzi, and even nursing care. It’s like living full time at a tropical resort.
“I don’t understand. How are we in our seventies already? Weren’t we just in our fifties like, three years ago?” Drew asks in confusion.
“Don’t try to math, Drew. No one gets math,” Jim pipes up from his chair, with his eyes still closed. “Can you stop yammering now? I’ve got a Jazzercise class in the pool in an hour, and I need my rest.”
“Baby! I think it’s time for your bottled water medicine!” Jenny announces, her hand clinging to Liz’s elbow as they amble over to us, and Liz helps her sit down in the chair she vacated.