Anne Louise

A new assignment ... write a diary entry about how much better my youthful life is than a senior's

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Diary Entry Dated 2009-07-19

I waited for the elevator while leering at two children. They just left the pool and were kicking a soccer ball back and forth and against the hallway walls. I didn’t care for it, but what the hell? They can do what they want as long as it doesn’t disrupt me. If they disrupt me then I will yell at them and puncture the ball. That’s how I roll.

The elevator came to a rest and the doors slid open. A cantankerous old woman appeared with a shopping cart. Anne-Louise! Oh my dear love, I haven’t seen in you weeks. It must have been the overwhelming pleasure we experienced when you materialized in the elevator that motivated you to slowly push your shopping cart into me. It must have acted as a conductor for our electric emotions that render you and I catatonic, which I assume is the reason why you blocked the entrance to the elevator until its doors shut.

You broke our trance when you saw the children. Gratefully coherent, I pushed the elevator button again and wiggled by your large, cottage cheese arms. The children followed me. As the doors to the elevator swung shut, you no longer had the look of weathered love in your eyes. You gripped your shopping cart, knuckles translucent and liver spots radiating. You cursed us in your gypsy tongue. I was shocked! The sight of me with the children brought you down from your lofty British war bride heritage to the dregs of European haberdashery.

As the elevator lifted the boys and me floor to floor, I mentioned to them that you hate children and that you told me I would be evicted from the apartment complex within a year. I did this with the strong, youthful voice you rarely hear. Partially because you are near deaf, but also because you are a miserable, dry cunt that nobody wants to talk to.

Lighten up or go fuck yourself. Either way, you might loosen up enough to realize you’re still alive instead of the walking dead.