Merle here, at least that’s who I think I am. It probably comes as a bit of a shock to you that a guy with my intellect and high IQ has reached a state where he spends most of his time wandering around his damn house looking for things. I’m beginning to worry. I mean I’m fifty nine years old and my dear Grandma Smith was daffier than a bird by the time she kicked the bucket. Why I remember the damn woman asking my Dad one day if he’d bought a brand new refrigerator seven straight times and we’d had the damn thing for eighteen years. He’d say, “No Grandma, that’s the old refrigerator,” and the answer would just bounce right off her noggin and she’d ask the same damn question over again. Something definitely wasn’t clickin if you get my drift.
Well here’s what’s got my britches in a bunch. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately and I guess that hasn’t been a good thing, cause the things that should have on my mind keep on disappearing. Hell, I lost my damn car keys the other day and for the life of me couldn’t find them. I looked all over hell, because the damn car was a sittin in the garage so I knew the damn keys had to be somewhere in the vicinity. I looked in my pants while they were a sittin in the washer and I was up to my elbows in water and Tide detergent. No luck, but at least my arms were nice and clean! I looked in my dresser drawers, I looked in the car, logic of course being they were “CAR” keys and that was my car but they weren’t there neither. Hell, I even looked in the refrigerator and under the couch and still no keys. I musta checked every damn pocket in every damn shirt, pair of pants, and jacket I owned and there still were no keys to be found.
Now here’s what’s giving me the creeps. The car was there in the garage and it was definitely my car, I checked the registration and it had my name on it and the car did look familiar. I knew I hadn’t hotwired it on account I’d a noticed some damage on the wheel and such. SO WHERE IN THE HELL WERE MY DAMN CAR KEYS? Well, they were in the garbage can, that’s where they were. So I get to thinking, “WHAT THE HELL WERE THEY DOING IN THE GARBAGE CAN? WERE THEY SPOILED?” So I fished them out of the garbage can, washed the coffee grounds and scrambled eggs off and then re-cleaned my damn arms. Finally I just sat down with a snoot of Jim Beam nestled in my hand and pondered what the hell was going on. Well the pondering got me nowhere because the very next day my “HOUSE” keys came up missing. I looked all over hell for the damn things and finally, two hours later, found the HOUSE keys under the CAR seat where the CAR keys shoulda been the day before. WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON HERE? Then a thought struck me and I was kinda glad it was a thought cause that meant I might be thinking. “I think I’m starting to forget I might have Alzheimer’s.”
Now I’ve always been sharp as a tack but lately my mental incapacities seemed to be going to hell in a hand basket. Hell, just last week I went blasting out the back door after that damn infernal squirrel that keeps on messing with my bird feeder and forgot I had moved my potting table to the right side of the patio door from the left side and thus I planted myself right on top of it. Felt like a damn fool I did and I caught my overalls in one of the tool hooks and flapped around for a few minutes like a trout. At least it gave me time to think until I worked myself free. Christ, I’m almost afraid to step outside the house for fear I’ll forget where I live and end up wandering off to Illinois or worse yet Wisconsin.
I’d order one of them alarm gadgets you see on TV, you know the one’s where you say the secret code, “I’ve fallen down and I can’t get up,” but I lost the damn TV remote and I can’t turn the damn thing on to get the phone number. Maybe I need to have my neighbor Calvin look for that commercial on his TV and then he can call them and say, ”Help, my neighbor Merle’s lost his remote and he can’t call up.” This is damn disconverting if you ask me. I mean if you’re losing everything then at some point you must eventually be losing your mind too, right? Well now wait a minute that actually sounded logical. If I’m still logical then it stands to reason I can’t be forgetting that I have Alzheimer’s or can I? Hmm, this calls for a snoot of my Jimmy Beam and some intellectual commencement. Damn! Now where the hell’d I put the damn Jim Beam? Beam me up Scotty!
Well here’s what’s got my britches in a bunch. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately and I guess that hasn’t been a good thing, cause the things that should have on my mind keep on disappearing. Hell, I lost my damn car keys the other day and for the life of me couldn’t find them. I looked all over hell, because the damn car was a sittin in the garage so I knew the damn keys had to be somewhere in the vicinity. I looked in my pants while they were a sittin in the washer and I was up to my elbows in water and Tide detergent. No luck, but at least my arms were nice and clean! I looked in my dresser drawers, I looked in the car, logic of course being they were “CAR” keys and that was my car but they weren’t there neither. Hell, I even looked in the refrigerator and under the couch and still no keys. I musta checked every damn pocket in every damn shirt, pair of pants, and jacket I owned and there still were no keys to be found.
Now here’s what’s giving me the creeps. The car was there in the garage and it was definitely my car, I checked the registration and it had my name on it and the car did look familiar. I knew I hadn’t hotwired it on account I’d a noticed some damage on the wheel and such. SO WHERE IN THE HELL WERE MY DAMN CAR KEYS? Well, they were in the garbage can, that’s where they were. So I get to thinking, “WHAT THE HELL WERE THEY DOING IN THE GARBAGE CAN? WERE THEY SPOILED?” So I fished them out of the garbage can, washed the coffee grounds and scrambled eggs off and then re-cleaned my damn arms. Finally I just sat down with a snoot of Jim Beam nestled in my hand and pondered what the hell was going on. Well the pondering got me nowhere because the very next day my “HOUSE” keys came up missing. I looked all over hell for the damn things and finally, two hours later, found the HOUSE keys under the CAR seat where the CAR keys shoulda been the day before. WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON HERE? Then a thought struck me and I was kinda glad it was a thought cause that meant I might be thinking. “I think I’m starting to forget I might have Alzheimer’s.”
Now I’ve always been sharp as a tack but lately my mental incapacities seemed to be going to hell in a hand basket. Hell, just last week I went blasting out the back door after that damn infernal squirrel that keeps on messing with my bird feeder and forgot I had moved my potting table to the right side of the patio door from the left side and thus I planted myself right on top of it. Felt like a damn fool I did and I caught my overalls in one of the tool hooks and flapped around for a few minutes like a trout. At least it gave me time to think until I worked myself free. Christ, I’m almost afraid to step outside the house for fear I’ll forget where I live and end up wandering off to Illinois or worse yet Wisconsin.
I’d order one of them alarm gadgets you see on TV, you know the one’s where you say the secret code, “I’ve fallen down and I can’t get up,” but I lost the damn TV remote and I can’t turn the damn thing on to get the phone number. Maybe I need to have my neighbor Calvin look for that commercial on his TV and then he can call them and say, ”Help, my neighbor Merle’s lost his remote and he can’t call up.” This is damn disconverting if you ask me. I mean if you’re losing everything then at some point you must eventually be losing your mind too, right? Well now wait a minute that actually sounded logical. If I’m still logical then it stands to reason I can’t be forgetting that I have Alzheimer’s or can I? Hmm, this calls for a snoot of my Jimmy Beam and some intellectual commencement. Damn! Now where the hell’d I put the damn Jim Beam? Beam me up Scotty!
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