Retirement Bus Apna Kaam Se

I think Jorge Larrionda should be kicked out. Nobody ever listens to me, not even our dog. Though, France were the favorites to go through, my heart bled for Portugal. Finally Luiz Felipe Scolari's run at the World Cup has ended.

Am I abnormal or do you all wake up with a song stuck in your head? Well, this morning when I woke up, I was humming, this is absolutely true, the OST of KANK or more commonly known as Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna, which has prompted three things. a) My wife has bought the music CD of the movie. b) She will be allowing me to sleep in our bed tonite. c) I will be seeing our family doctor secretly.

Yesterday, I had to drive my mother all over town since she wanted to shop for several clothes. Apparently, my dad did the Houdini's Vanishing Elephant Act when my mum asked him to drive her around town. I am very disappointed with my dad. He does not take responsibility of his wife.

A few weeks ago my wife's uncle was retiring from work at the age of 77. I would never want to work to be 77, let alone live to be 77. Honestly, I still do not know the reasons for his retirement. His children had a get together at their ancestral home and we were all invited. Truthfully speaking, I am not a fan of retirement parties. They closely replicate a solemn High Mass.

I was dressed in a 3 piece RETRO funky disco leisure suit with Lavender Minky Velvet with Snow Leopard Fur Coat and a walking stick to go with the occasion. My wife does not necessarily approve my humor with dress sense. After a lengthy argument, I agreed to forsake the fur coat though I was unwilling to go to the party without my anti-shock nordic walking stick.

We reached her uncle's ancestral home at 18:30 hours and the place was buzzing like a geriatric ward on dextroamphetamine. Everywhere I saw, there were only aged people, which I believed, should not be unnatural at a retirement get together. I have never seen so many Montgomery caps, Military berets, Derby and Bowler hats and Gaucho hats all at one place. I am not kidding you. I even spotted someone in a ski cap. The place was unreal. Men in black hoods with scythes were guarding the place at strategic points.

Before I could turn around and walk away, her uncle spotted us.

• Mathematically speaking, if her uncle made six friends every year and lost one friend every year, present at the party were 385 old people. This list did not include the family. There were more people at this party than there were at my wedding.
  
  
• They all had seen and survived both the world wars. While we were holding our fruit & sherbat punches aloft, her uncle broke into a never-ending world-war monologue. The monologue wasn't as bad as the speed at which it progressed.
  
  
• Numerous round tables with half-a-dozen high-seating chairs were ensured by my wife's cousins. None of them appreciated my aesthetic faculties to organize a Chowki dinner. I recall, my wife jabbed an arm into my stomach and said, stop being an insensitive oaf.
  
  
• I was glad to notice that this reunion did not have a theme. Can you all fathom the number of luminaries and freedom fighters that would have turned up? Imagine 231 bodies in semi-nude clothing, loin-cloths, wire-rimmed glasses, shaven heads and a penchant for cultivating male sexual engery using Yin and Yang theory.
  
  
• Special care was taken to ensure that the food was easy to chew.
  

After the party; at 20:30 hours everyone gathered around her uncle. Everyone present at the gathering got him many thoughtful gifts. I do not recall any names of the people present at the gathering.

• One of his friends got him a Rotisserie Kit, Kebob Set, 6-Pack Double Prong Skewers, Kill-Anything-With-It Bug Zapper, Nonstick Rib Rack, Oversized Big Head Spatula, Tickle My Kebobs Apron & Keep Your Mitts About Your Tits Mitts. No, his friend did not buy all these things. He merely got him the catalogue.
  
  
• His sister, I mean, my wife's uncle's sister got him a dog. She said, I thought of many gifts till I read someplace, A dog is a man's best friend. Everyone had a laugh except yours truly.
  
  
• A friend of his got him an online subscription for 1-year on Playboy. Unlimited Access! Unlimited Downloads! Very thoughtful.
  
  
• He received several walking sticks in different colors, shapes, sizes, materials, etc. I have advised him to open a store and make some money. He scorned deviously at me.
  
  
• Another one of his friends got him Learn 10 Foreign Languages Till Death Do You Apart Easy-To-Use Home Kit. He said, I could not achieve it during my time. The least I can do is hope for my friend to die a multilinguist. Apparently, he received this prized possession at his retirement party 10 years ago.
  
  
• Another one got him a reverse clock. He said, time is a-ticking, my friend, grimly. From nowhere, the Rolling Stones hit single Time Is On My Side began playing.
  
  
• Someone got him a trombone. One of his kids got him a replica of a Stradivarius. Even I was impressed.
  
  
• I wanted to buy him a Granny.I'd.Like.To.Fcuk Blow-up Doll (G.I.L.F Doll) though my wife, like always, disagreed. We ended up buying him the Bhagwat Gita and a magnifier.
  
  
• Another one of his friends bought him Sex Demystified: Septuagenarian. I was really intrigued to see the contents of the book.
  
  
• He also received several wall clocks, a crash helmet, stainless steel bedpans, fishing equipment, coffee mugs, a t-shirt that said "I'm am officially retarted" (I think, it means, retired), picture frames, etc.

Just as we were all ready to leave, her uncle called us (only family) to listen to a poem.

"How do I know where my youth all went?

Well, my buck up and go has jerked off and spent.


Old age is golden, so I've heard it said,

So where is my gold, when I get into bed.


The sleep knocks me out, I say to myself --

'Is there anyone else I should lay on my bed?'


When I was young, my trousers were red,

I could zip down a few right over my head,


When I grew older my trousers were blue,

But still I could bonk the whole night through.


Now I am old, my trousers are black,

I think of my bore and that small randy hole;


The reason I know where my youth is all went,

My buck up and go has jerked off and spent.


But I really don't mind, when I think with a grin

Of all the grand places my buck up has been.


I get up each morning, dust off my nits,

Sip a cup of coffee, and read the Obits."

I have modified the poem for cognitive neoclassicism. *All Rights Reserved.

Yours alzheimerly.