Have mercy! Lordy, I’m getting old and falling apart. My eyes are going bad, and I have so many other complaints that I don’t have the strength to list them all. And my bones ache.
I’m in such bad shape that everybody makes fun of me, even friends and neighbors. They see me coming and run. With buds like that, who needs enemas? But I’ve had them, too.
My circle of friends isn’t growing — I’m being surrounded. No, for all they care, I’m already dead. I guess they’re afraid they’ll end up like me, so they’re putting me out of their misery.
But I’ve managed to hang on and spoil their fun. At a certain point, we all gotta believe in something bigger than ourselves. So I believe I’ll just eat some cheese with all this whining.