A CURE FOR OLD AGE

 

Announcer (in a deep, manly, announcer voice): Stay tuned at the end of this blog for a chance to win free prizes. Now excuse me while I go smoke a couple more packs of cigarettes so my voice gets even deeper and manlier.

When I was young I used to have a fairly good-looking physique, or at least a fairly human-looking physique. Today I stand naked in front of a mirror and the mirror and I both shield our eyes and throw up a little in our mouths. Some species of ogre is staring back at me from the mirror, and not even one of the better-looking ogres, but an ogre that couldn’t get a date for the ogre prom if his life depended on it, an ogre that even the other ogres tease and make fun of for looking goofy. And where did all this hair come from? It’s as if an evil Tinkerbell splattered me with magic hair dust. I have hair everywhere. It crawls out of my nose and ears. Every inch of my body has hair. I’m slowly turning into a giant ogre Chia Pet.
My energy is gone, too. Have you ever heard stories about young men who would work all day chopping down a forest with a pocket knife, then go out drinking, partying and carousing with women all night, and without going to bed, go out and chop down another forest in the morning? Young men who would go for days without sleep and have the energy of someone who just got up from a full night’s rest? When I was young, I was one of those guys who heard stories like that, and I could listen to those stories for hours—or at least until I went to bed at ten—and it wouldn’t tire me out at all. Now just writing about it makes me want to take a nap.
I haven’t been to the doctor to get checked yet, but I know what the problem is. I’m coming down with Old Age. It’s a hereditary thing. My father was afflicted with Old Age as was his father before him. It runs in our family. I think my grandfather was born with it, because I don’t remember a time when he didn’t have Old Age. My father got Old Age when I was a teenager. It made him very stupid. I remember wondering how a thirteen year old like me could be so much smarter than someone his age. It of course was the Old Age that made him stupid. He did go into remission eventually, and by the time I reached my thirties, he had recovered considerably with the intelligence part at least.
Old Age is a disease that carries an embarrassing stigma with it like an STD. People will deny they have it, especially women, and they go to great lengths to mask the signs and symptoms with special creams, paints and dyes. For some it works for a while, but it’s like zombies putting on lipstick and hoping nobody notices they’re zombies. There’s an old saying, “You can fool some of the people some of the time, but you’re the only fool you can fool all of the time.” (Or something like that. I can’t remember. Loss of memory is one of the symptoms of Old Age.) I think it applies here. You can put a Band-Aid on a goiter, but eventually people are going to notice the goiter.
Old Age is a chronic illness with no known cure. Complications from Old Age are the leading cause of deaths worldwide. (Okay, I’m guessing here. To know for sure would require extensive research and it’s easier just to make stuff up.) As devastating as this disease is, I don’t know of a single organization working on a cure or even a vaccine, and I know why. Old Age effects mainly the elderly, and nobody cares about a bunch of wrinkled old Chia Pets. Wait until cute babies and sweet little kids start coming down with Old Age, then there will be fundraisers and telethons up the wazoo. Well I for one am not going to wait that long. Starting right now, I’m going to work endlessly until at least ten o’clock to find a cure for this scourge of humanity. If you have a few thousand or an extra million dollars laying around—my motto: no donation is ever too large—and want to help with a good cause, you know how to get ahold of me. Just be very careful that you get the address right, because there are a lot of scams out there.
Announcer (in an even deeper, manlier, announcer voice): Starting today you can register for a chance to win a signed copy of THE ALMOND PEOPLE on Goodreads. (cough, cough) Just follow the link below and sign up. Two copies will be given away, and it’s entirely free. Not even postage and handling, because that’s where the scammers get you.
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About thewritingdeputy

Joel Jurrens was a deputy sheriff for 26 years until he retired in 2013. He has published three novels: In The Sticks, Graves of His Personal Liking and County Ops: The Vengeance of Gable Fitzgerald. He tries to keep his blog light and humorous and sometimes downright silly.
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