Write a post about anything you’d like, but be sure to include this sentence somewhere in the final paragraph:
“He tried to hit me with a forklift!”
The food is terrible here. Everything is mush. The coffee is like dishwater. And those caregivers! Why do they always mumble and never speak up.? And they don’t listen either. I tried to tell them that some of my best articles of clothing have been lost by the facility laundry. Anybody could be wearing my things! I wanted to keep a look out for them but someone has gone off with my good glasses too. I don’t think I’m wrong to strongly suspect that old coot, Ernie. You remember Ernie? They’ve forced me to share a table with him in the dining room and he is downright cantankerous and extremely unpleasant. I have no idea why. I try to be nice, I surely do, but I do not like him, not one little bit. Why, just the other day he rudely disrupted dinner by waving his cutlery around at me in a very menacing manner. Clifton, are you listening to me?
Hmmm…? Of course mother. Ernie. Are you getting along any better with Ernie now?
He tried to hit me with a fork, Clift!
A forklift? Mama, don’t be ridiculous. And don’t fret, nobody could get a forklift past the security doors.
A fork, Clift. FORK! FORK! FORK!
Mother, please! Shush – such language! You’ve imagined the forklift. I’ll get the nurse to give you something to calm your nerves.
Get her to give something to that Fork King, Ernie, why don’t you? He’s the villainous silverware fiend! Oh, never mind. Nobody listens to me. Go home Clifton. I can look after myself.
Yes. Yes, alright. I do believe you can.
Clifton Carmichael sighs as he gets up and kisses the top of his mother’s silver head. Forklifts in the dining room. Good God, he thinks as he bids her goodbye, what next?