Old and Ugly

Lining up to pay in a supermarket counter, I was sandwiched by a couple of happy, old-but-not-too old lady and a gentleman who, by the level of the excitement I witnessed, maybe old ‘hood friends but have not seen each other for quite some time.

Lady in front me: “Hey, Frank, long time. How are you?”

Frank at the back: “They said I’m old and ugly. I said, ‘Not yet, but I’m getting there!'”

They had a good laugh. At my ears’ expense. More yakitty yak yak after that. Man, they were loud!

It took a while for my brain to process what Frank meant when he said, “Not yet, but I’m getting there,” and laughed loud about it. There was too much yak-yak noise at the front and at the back for proper processing.

Then, at the sound of the POS machine scanning the load of stuff in my cart, I had a grasp.

He must have meant we’re all getting there —old. You and I. We all. We get older by a second every second, by a minute every minute, by an hour every hour, by a freakin’ day every freakin’ day, ad infinitum. Then when we finally reach the end and we die, our bodies decay, decompose, rot, or get burned. Same process: slowly, second by second by every second. That’s uglier than ugly, bruh. Uh-huh!

Ugly. But true.

And if you don’t laugh about it, you lose.

So Frank, I catch your drift, man. That day, I left Costco with less money than I had when I got in, but with a new perspective full of happy thoughts.

Here’s to you. Cheers!


If you’ve been touched, amused, or entertained by this post, or it put a smile on your face, please favor me with a cup of coffee. I will continue writing.

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