I Wanna Be an Old Man

Last Monday I was severely incapacitated with a hangover, so I laid in The Barber's bed and re-read "Pet Semetary." This was the last book I read as kid before getting off the Stephen King train back in the day. Anyways I found myself drifting away, dreaming about being the Old Man living across the road from the Creeds. It's always been my big dream - sit on a porch in the darkness (I mean down-home darkness, where you can't see your hand in front of your face) sipping on a cold beer while listening to a quiet broadcast of the ballgame on the radio. Two or three times an hour a car will go by in the distance. The fucking life for me, for sure.

Also, I can't wait til I'm old enough to insert "and" into the middle of years. Young people can't pull this off, can they? Only old people. I want the neighborhood kids running up pn the porch asking me to tell stories of the "glory days."

"When did you start playing football, Mr. Xmas?"
"Boy, my first year on varsity was way back in Nineteen hundred and eighty-seven. That was right before the bull-in-the-ring drill was outlawed, fucking pussies. Now get me a gotdam beer and get the hell outta here!"

I don't think I'm asking for too much, no?