Campfyre Stories

I decided something last night.

If I wind up in a wheelchair when I’m older, it will have to be a motorized one.  I’m totally going to start an old lady wheelchair gang.  We will have matching purple jackets with black embroidery that says "Hell on Wheels".  We will terrorize people with small, yappy dogs and cat call at attractive men (old and young alike).

When it’s dinnertime and we go for our Early Bird Special, the waiters will roll their eyes and draw straws to see who draws the short stick and has to put up with our cackling, incessant demands for more coffee, more cream and faster service.  Though we will tip well, we will expect personalized attention.  If we don’t get it, we will unscrew all the lids on the salt and pepper shakers.

People will see us coming and cross the street to avoid us.

If we’re feeling especially saucy and troublesome, we will wheel our chairs down the street, obstructing traffic and flipping off those who DARE to honk at us, or otherwise try to hurry us along.  We will be feared by those who have never encountered us, and assumed to be an urban legend, but we will be real.

What’s your retirement plan?