Norman McCallum had waited the last sixty-five years for this moment and he was going to milk every second for what it was worth.
Ever since he had come into the world, Norman did what was expected of him. He studied hard so he would get into university, started a career he knew would make his parents proud, married the good girl instead of the bad girl, invested his money wisely instead of having fun with it, and kept his mouth shut at work so he could retire with a full pension and a gold watch he would never wear. So it was only fitting that he would do what was expected of him in his golden years, only this time he didn’t mind.
“Wow, I can’t believe I’m sixty-five years old,” he said when he awoke the morning of his birthday. “I guess this is it; there’s nothing left to live for. All I have to look forward to now is becoming the crazy old man everyone laughs at. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
The more Norman thought about becoming the crazy old man that others expect men of his age to become, the more he warmed up to the idea.
“I can finally dress however I want and no one can say a thing!” he reasoned; so it was polyester pants pulled up to his man boobs and socks with sandals from that moment forward.
“I can say whatever I want, too!”
That’s why when his son asked what he thought of his new girlfriend, Norman blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“She reminds me of this concubine my squad and I kept during the war,” he said to his mortified son; even though Norman had never seen basic training let alone deployment to a war zone. But Norman was a crazy old man now and people expect crazy old men to say bizarre stuff. They expect them to be cranky too, and Norman didn’t disappoint.
“It was a car accident, wasn’t it?” he said to the girl behind the counter at the counter shop.
“Was what a car accident?” she asked.
“The thing that messed you up and now makes you slower than molasses in January. I thought maybe your arm got wrecked up in a car accident and that’s why it takes you forever to pour a simple cup of coffee. Good thing I didn’t ask you to build me a house. I’d be homeless for years.”
Now that Norman had reached crazy old man age, he could also get people to do things for him; such as clean out the gutters, paint his house, and carry his groceries to his car. He was more than capable of doing those things for himself, he just couldn’t be bothered.
“I hope I don’t take after my mother’s side of the house and die in my early seventies. I’m just getting started with this whole ‘Crazy Old Man’ act, and I’m having too much fun for it to end that early. Here’s hoping I take after my dad’s side and last until my nineties.”
Norman has been healthy his whole life; so consider yourselves warned.