“Oh, my. There are a lot of...all I see is...there are so many...”
“It’s okay, Kevin. You can say it,” Liz states, patting poor Kevin on the back as he stares around the party room at the retirement facility in a state of shock. “Here a cock, there a cock, everywhere a cock-cock.”
I can’t help it, I let out a giggle when Liz says cock-cock. It feels good to giggle. It makes me feel young. It makes me feel like I can do anything.
As soon as I remember how legs work.
“Why does every gentleman in this room have...a problem in his pants?” Kevin asks in the nicest way possible as Mr. Schumacher walks by and gives us a wave.
None of us wave back. Our eyes all immediately drop down to the giant tent in his pants that is sticking out, loud and proud.
“Okay, the good news is, I threw away what was left of the chocolate chews. The bad news is, there were only three left out of the hundred I made,” Drew explains, rushing over to us as fast as his old bones will allow, wearing a t-shirt that says I fucked your grandmother last night.
“Chocolate chews? Do I even want to ask what you put in those chocolate chews?” Kevin asks. “When I told you guys you could throw a small get-together today, I didn’t expect...whatever this is.”
“DON’T YOU JUDGE ME, KEVIN!” Drew shouts. “I was trying to liven this boring place up! Put a little excitement back into everyone’s lives so it wasn’t just about napping and early bird dinners!”
“Don’t yell at Kevin,” Jim scolds Drew. “Not all heroes wear capes. Kevin is a saint for being here with us every day, taking on the task of organizing fun activities, and making sure Mrs. Swanson doesn’t drive another golf cart into the lake. Corralling us old people isn’t easy. He’s doing the Lord’s work. You got too cocky with this party, Drew. It happens to the best of us.”
“Please, will someone just explain why every man in this room has a giant bulge sticking out of the front of his pants?!” Kevin pleads, quickly wiping the panicked look off his face when another elderly gentleman that I recognize from bingo night walks by and smiles at him. “Lovely day we’re having, isn’t it, Mr. Jasper?”
“Best day I’ve had since my prostate surgery five years ago, Kevin!” Mr. Jasper announces, pointing down at his boner proudly. “Has anyone seen my wife? I need her to take care of this.”
Kevin lets out a nervous laugh and points over to the buffet table filled with all of the cupcakes, brownies, cookies, and cakes I threw together earlier, where Mrs. Jasper is currently filling up a plate.
As soon as Mr. Jasper walks away, Drew lets out a sigh.
“Jenny crushes up my Viagra and puts it into delicious things because I have trouble swallowing pills. I saw those stool softening chocolate chews this morning, did a little pill crushing and mushing the powder into chocolate chews when I got back to our condo, and came up with Chocolate and Cockup. I guess I didn’t think this plan through very well,” he explains.
“Heh, heh, you can’t swallow,” I giggle.
“I HAVE A SENSITIVE ESOPHOGUS, CLAIRE!” Drew complains loudly.
“So, basically, all the men in this room are going to have massive erections while shitting their brains out. That should be fun,” Carter deadpans.
All of this just makes me giggle even harder, which makes Liz look at me quizzically.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you so giggly?”
I try to smother my giggling by pressing my hand against my mouth, but I can’t contain it. Everything is so funny right now. Men are just wandering around the room with huge hard-ons. They’re standing in small circles, talking about their golf game, with huge hard-ons. They’re drinking punch and getting jiggy with it, with huge hard-ons.
“Oh, my Jesus. You ate the pot brownies, didn’t you?” Liz suddenly asks. “You were supposed to just make them, not eat them. How many?”
I shrug my shoulders and look up at her sheepishly from my chair.
“I dunno. A few. Also, I don’t think I need my shoulders anymore.”
“For fuck’s sake. Didn’t you learn your lesson when we were in our twenties and you licked the wall of Seduction and Snacks? You never eat more than one. NEVER! At your age, you should only eat a bite. And don’t even tell me you thought it wasn’t working, so you kept eating them. THAT’S EXACTLY HOW IT WORKS! Not high, not high, not high, oh, my God, I’m dying. You’re a grandmother! What would your grandchildren think right now?” Liz asks me with a shake of her head.
“My grandchildren would think I’m the shit!” I tell her. “My doctor told me months ago that my blood glucose level was getting close to the diabetes territory. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had real sugar? So, I licked the spoon when I made the brownies. And then I licked the beaters. And then the bowl. And I had to taste-test the actual batter with a few spoonfuls before that. And who the hell makes brownies and doesn’t try a few when they’re warm and gooey from the oven? Also, I think I might be paralyzed from the neck down.”
Liz continues to shake her head at me, but she has to admit. This party has been a blast. We’re listening to loud music, and it’s not just the theme music from game shows on TV, and it’s not loud because half of the people in this room can’t hear it. It’s loud because we’re having fun. People are dancing. People are laughing. People are sneaking off to have sex all over this retirement community because the men overdosed on Drew’s Chocolate and Cockup. Mrs. Anderson ate three cupcakes and is telling everyone who will listen what a big penis Mr. Anderson had, complete with holding her hands in the air at least a foot apart. This wouldn’t be all that strange under normal circumstances, I guess, but Mr. Anderson died twenty years ago. Ever since I met her, all she does is cry whenever she mentions him. And now she’s smiling and laughing and making dick jokes. No one in this room is acting like they’re just sitting around waiting to die. They’re living.
With huge cocks and medical marijuana highs.
“Are you gonna shut our rave down, Kevin? It was just getting good,” Drew complains with a harrumph, crossing his arms in front of him.
“No, I’m not shutting things down. But I am going to start handing out water to everyone, get the nurse in here to take some blood pressure readings, and make sure no one else eats any brownies,” Kevin informs us.
“Or cupcakes, or cookies, or cakes,” I add.
“You put it in everything?!” Kevin asks.
“Liz got some good shit. A lot of good shit,” I shrug, with the shoulders I realize I actually do still need.
Kevin mutters under his breath and then scurries off to save the day and make sure no one around here dies, just like always.
“He’s a good man, that Kevin. Someone should nominate him for president,” Jim states.
“You guys! Why are you all sitting over here in the corner? You’re missing all the fun!” Jenny says us as she joins us, waiving a large pink vibrator in her hand. “The vibrator races are just about to start over by the refreshment table.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” we all scream at the top of our lungs as Liz reaches over and snatches the vibrator out of her hand.
“Will you guys calm down?” Drew huffs, wrapping his arm around Jenny’s shoulders. “I’m sure Jenny isn’t conducting those kind of vibrator races this time, are you honey?”
Back in our younger days, we attended a charity function where Jenny entered a vibrator race contest. You were supposed to pick your weapon of choice, set it down on a homemade racetrack next to a bunch of other contestants, turn it on, and then whosever vibrator made it down the track first, won. Our dear Jenny thought vibrator race meant you had to stick the thing down your pants and whoever finished first, won.