“Look, Myrtle, a seat over there!” Bonnie Shade said to her dear withered friend, Myrtle Wyndham.
At Rusty Years Retirement Living, it was time for the resident’s lunch, and everyone knew that it was hard to get a good seat near the restrooms. So Myrtle and Bonnie rushed as fast as their canes could hold them up to the small table near the bathroom.
“I’ll be right back,” Bonnie said. “I’m getting more cooked broccoli. I guess George told the cooks to decrease the amount of veggies because of the price. “Hmph!”
George Miller was the manager, or regulator of the retirement home. He made things run smoothly or in this case, ridiculously.
“Okay, be sure to bring the salt shaker…”Gasp!” Myrtle had the wind knocked out of her when she saw the elder of her dreams walk by. With salt and pepper thinning hair, lean crow’s feet and stress wrinkles, hunched back, gold embroidered walker, squinty dark green eyes, a bandana across the head, from the look of it, he was insane. But to Myrtle, he was insanely aged looking! She gawked like an idiot until Bonnie came back.
“Well, that was an ordeal! The youngsters that call themselves cooks these days… I had to nag one until he let me in the line again! Tie up that tie! Clean up your act! Comb your mop once and a while! What is wrong with kids these days… what are you looking at?” Bonnie asked.
Myrtle pointed a bony finger towards the deranged looking man.
“He’s the new guy, Smitty Wiebe. Word has it he’s spent some time in the nut house, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh no.” He doesn’t look crazy at all. The bad kind of crazy, that is.” Myrtle replied.
Myrtle told Bonnie all about her feelings for Smitty.
“Hmm. Maybe you’re right. But I wouldn’t step in a ten foot radius of him if I were you… Wow. Look at the time. Charles will want me to tuck him in for his nap, right about now.”
Charles was a complete lazy bum of a husband, but Bonnie still cared about him. After all, He could barely get himself to the bathroom, let alone tuck himself in for a nap.
Myrtle was now determined more than ever to meet this Smitty and make sure he wasn’t insane herself.
The next morning Myrtle shuffled up to the front desk to ask for Smitty’s room number, when a woman moved her out of the way and said, “Hello, I’m Margie Wilder, I’m new here. And I’d like to know where Smitty Weibe is staying.”
How dare she?! I take my good time walking up here and she pushes me! She thought. She heard George reply “Room 214” and raced up the stairs as fast as a snail to meet this Smitty. 216, 215,
“Aha! Found it before that other old windbag!” She yelled.
She knocked quietly on the door, then she figured he didn’t turn his hearing aid up so she pounded on the door with her cane and started yelling.
“Mr. Weibe? Mr. Weibe?! Are you in there? Open up! I have peanut brittle!”
Instantly, the door opened, but Smitty wasn’t there. Myrtle peered through the door and came in. The room was a cinnamon color with high ceilings, and a chandelier. The room was still small. Just like any other Rusty Years room.
“Mr. Weibe? Oh!”
To Myrtles surprise, Margie had already made it up the stairs before her, managed to get in his room and was now sitting in a chair feeding him applesauce!
“Is there something I can help you with, dear?” Margie smirked.
“Dancing burritos!” Smitty shouted.
“Oh no, not anymore.” Myrtle left the peanut brittle and quietly walked back to her room. Later that night, she phoned Bonnie and told her the whole story.
“It was outrageous, Bonnie. The whole thing revolved around hurting a poor old geezers heart!”
“Tell you what, Myrtle. Next time that two faced purple haired pumpkin head tries to mess with you, George and I will come and jack that dimwit up.”
“Oh, there’s no need for violence. I got an idea; we come up with a plan to throw out her and them youngsters!” Myrtle yelped.
“*CRASH!* Oh uh, sorry Myrtle. Charles keeps trying to move. But your plan, what is it?”
Myrtle told Bonnie about all the ideas she had in mind, and Bonnie approved of only one. They both agreed the next morning it should come into play.
At sunrise; Myrtle jumped out of bed to go down to the monthly Bran for Breakfast special. She knew everyone would be there, including Margie. She got in her ninja costume, a black body suit with a black sweat band and raced downstairs. It was time for the plan to go into action.
She met Bonnie at the Bran for Breakfast center, she dressed in the same outfit as Myrtle.
“When does this thing get started Myrtle?”
“Hold your horses and wait for the opportune moment.” Myrtle replied.
Soon, they began the wait to get the raisin bran. Margie was first in line, babbling to some other old woman about fabric softener. It was time.
“Now!” Myrtle shouted.
When she said that, chocolate milk poured from the ceiling and onto Margie. All the senior citizens were in shock. Especially Margie.
‘Who did this?!” Margie wailed. “I paid good money for this dress suit! 3 WHOLE DOLLARS!!!!!” The room went silent. Margie did too. She looked over everyone, sniffled, and quietly, walked back to her room.
Later in the afternoon, Myrtle called Bonnie.
“Well, I think it’s high time we apologized for being such fools.” ”That poor woman, I am so ashamed.”
“She deserved it, but even so, we’ve probably acted worse than she.” Bonnie admitted.
Myrtle went to the front desk and found George.
“Which room does Margie Wilder stay in?”
“Room 154, and Myrtle? I wouldn’t be too much of a bother. She’s in a mood.”
“I figured.”
Myrtle slowly went up the stairs to room 154, and knocked.
“Come in.” A shriveled voice said.
She did.
“Margie, I wanted to talk. I’m the one who did all that. I wanted to come and apologize. It seems I was so childish to think revenge after seeing Smitty with you was the answer. It wasn’t. I knew that. I’m sure you do too. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Well, you came, and apologized. I understand why you did what you did, but your right. Revenge, isn’t the answer. I suppose I accept.”
“I guess I’ll leave now, and Margie, I really am sorry.”
Myrtle went out the door, feeling better about herself. Just then, she saw Smitty talking to himself in the hallway.
“Smitty! What a pleasant surprise!” Myrtle said.
“Flying Baboons!” He greeted her.
“Come on Smitty, I’ll take you to my room for some peanut brittle.”
“Giant sea cucumber!” He agreed.
And they had some tasty peanut brittle.
The End
