The Road To Hell

is paved with good intentions..

Today I did real good at dieting, at least until I went down to the Silver Strutters dancing thingee. Okay, so I'm not 'officially' a senior but since I'm disabled and living in an apartment complex for impoverished seniors and cripples I'm frequently invited to participate in free events geared towards senior citizens run by the local community services board. Once a month they hold a tea dance and once a month I put on my prettiest floral dress and white gloves to attend.

It's extra swanky, they even use the fancy expensive paper napkins that look like cloth. There's punch and tea cookies in plastic that could pass for silver and crystal. With the fake flower arrangements and other stuff if you squint real hard you could almost imagine you're having high tea at the Yacht Club.

I don't rightly dance, I spin around the dance floor without a partner in my Rascal to the old timey music between visits to the punch bowl and cookies. Today the skinny uppity c-word in charge told me that Meagan had instructed her I could not use my Rascal there, I had to stand and dance! As if! For the kicker I was also told I was FORBIDDEN to have any punch or cookies. Meagan left strict orders that I was to be allowed a glass of cool water only.

That really chapped my fanny so I didn't dance, I sat off to the side and seethed, watching Mary Byrd show off her ballroom dancing skills with some ugly fag from the local Arthur Murray school. Big deal. So the old bat can dance, she lives on lettuce leaves. But she doesn't have my sex appeal.

Eventually Cyndia Lou from the next apartment building over from mine, showed up and sat next to me. Cyndia doesn't dance either on account of hers many problems, one clubbed foot, glasses like coke bottle bottoms and she's still mostly blind, asthma, you-name-it she's got it. I could hear her rattling wheezing breath before I saw her. I don't know her too well so I was really surprised when she suggested we ditch this snoozefest and hightail it down to McDonalds.

We worked out a system, Cyndia beeing so short and tiny would stand on the battery at the back of my Rascal and I would pilot the Rascal over to McDonalds. In exchange for riding her down there Cyndia would buy me a extry value meal of 2 fish sammiches with fries and a jumbo choco shake.

Got there in one piece and got our food. Damn, it was good, better than that bowl of oatmeal I had for breakfast. That oatmeal made me so hungry the rest of the morning. Cyndia might be teensy but she could put away the food, ete a Big Mac, fries, 10 piece nugget, a pie and a shake. Good times.

The problems started happening on the way home. Traffic was way worse and folks were swooping by at the speed of light, honking at me to get out of the street. Cyndia got scared and kept clutching me hard, scratching me with her nails atrying to dig in to stay on. I kept slapping at her hands. Ended up driving my precious Rascal into a lightpole. Cyndia was thrown from the back, her glasses flew off and a 18 wheeler ran 'em over. She lay there in the bushes bleeding like a stuck pig from a head wound screeching I owed her for a new pair of glasses because my Rascal-driving caused her to lose her glasses.

I got so flustered I accidentally backed my Rascal over her before I floored it and got the heck out of there, leaving her screaming in the bushes. Cyndia will be alright, I think, I hope. But I guess I'll be tiptoing to the door to see who's there out the spyhole for a while.