Wise Acres Follies

Periwinkle Chronicles, tales of the citizens of Periwinkle [because all the other colors were already taken] County:


The Rev. Dr. Randall Nathan pulled his 1953 MG into the spot reserved for Armand Leggpuller, the Physical Therapist at the “Wise Acres Home for Old Guys,” named for Carol Wise, the famed anthropologist whose pioneering work revealed the only consistent principal of elderly male natural-habitat life: “They think they’re funny.”

“If they call me out on a Sunday morning for THIS bunch,” he muttered, “I’ll park wherever I durn well please. Besides, a little exercise should appeal to a physical terrorist. Let him walk.”

“Thank God you’re here, Rev. Nathan,” said Ann Xious, the Wise Acres administrator, running out to meet him.

“It’s not always a good thing when people are glad to see you,” thought The Rev. Dr. Randall Nathan. (Retard), which is how they pronounce “retired” in Periwinkle County, or at least that’s what they tell him.

“You simply must talk to Austin Sitylimitz. Nothing’s been the same since that old country singer came here,” said Ann Xious.

“Has he been singing Chad Mitchell Trio songs again?”

“Even worse. He won’t let Mia Kulpah, that visitor lady from ‘Come Here Or Go To Hell Fundamentalist Progressive Bible Finagling Church’ leave his room. He keeps holding her hand and begging her to tell him more about how Jesus wants him to be rich.”

“What’s wrong with that? I’d think a church lady like Mia Kulpah would be glad to have an old far.. that is, an old man like Austin Sitylimitz be asking to hear more about how Jesus wants him to be rich. That’s what they advertise on Critter, the social networking site where people can post a “bleet” about stuff like that.”

“Well, you almost said the operative word… oh, just go talk to him, won’t you?”

So Randall Nathan maneuvered his way through the wheel chairs in the hallway, where old men were regaling one another with tales of the three blond women with Parkinson’s who went into a bar and… he didn’t hear the rest of it, because Mia Kulpah came running down the hall, her face a ghastly purple mask. She ran out the front doors and fell on her knees and kissed the concrete of the parking lot. At least, that’s what it looked like she was doing.

Randall went on until he reached the room of Austin Sitylimitz, where the strains of a strained git-fiddle and a frog-like voice were singing, “Bring me little water, Sylvie, bring me little water now…” He broke off when Randall Nathan walked into the room.

“Good to hear you singing again, Austin,”

“Hades, I ain’t singin’. I’m trying to get that durn nurse Sylvie to bring me some water. I’m parched from having that durn church lady, Mia Kulpah, in here. You got anything to drink?”

Randall pulled his communion flask out of his sleeve like a magician and gave Austin Sitylimitz a swig.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” sighed Austin. “That tastes like Reunited Lambrusco.”

“Speaking of church ladies,” said Randall, “I saw Mia Kulpa running down the hall.”

“Yeah, I let her go. I ran out of ammo.”

“Ammo?”

“Yeah, that dame doesn’t come here to bring the word of God, or comfort, or anything else. She just wants to mark me off her list of stuff to do. Last night they fed us government surplus sweet persimmons, and they’d been working up into a storm inside of me. She came in here and started spouting stuff about Jesus and how he wants everybody to be rich and that’s how you know you’re saved, and so I should give her church all my money so God will make me rich. I felt real sorry for Jesus, what with friends like that, you know. Then them sweet ‘simmons… well, I just kept holding onto her hand and let it rip.”

“I’m sure Jesus is glad to count you as one of his friends,” said Randall Nathan, but he left shortly thereafter.

***

A Golden Persimmon is awarded today to The Residence at McCormick’s Creek, Spencer, IN, because… The similarity between activities in Periwinkle County and events in other places is rarely coincidental.

[“Christ in Winter,” Reflections On Faith For People In The Winter Of Their Years, can be found at http://christinwinter.blogspot.com/]

{If you would like to receive PC or CIW by email, let me know at jmcfarland1721@charter.net, and I’ll put you on the list.}