“Just look at me, sitting here all day in front of the stupid box with an IV connected to cable news. This is ‘news’? Good grief! They have nothing to offer but constant outrage and a bucket of spite. ‘Keep the rubes angry!’ the corporate memo says, ‘we need those ad dollars!’ I should’ve cut the cord on this psychological group experiment a long time ago. I don’t even know who the rats are anymore—them, or us? And the politicians! Well, don’t get me started. They say one thing one day, and another the next. The only thing they know how to do is put their finger to the wind to see which direction it’s blowing. Well, if you ask me, they can put it somewhere else! They would sell their own mother if they knew it would give them more leverage. Ha! You know, I wouldn’t vote for any of them even if they were running for dogcatcher. What a bunch of wing nuts. Honest to God, I don’t know where this country is going anymore. You know it’s all lies, right? You know that? We’re constantly being fed lies. Oh, yeah, don’t even get me started. We’re all just being manipulated. I could explain it, but what's the point?" 

"It’s all just a very sophisticated game of reverse Robin Hood. They’re now strategizing on how to take away our entitlements—you know, the ones we paid for with our tax dollars!—all the while creating some cultural issue in order to distract and divide us. Politics is just one big smoke screen, nothing more, nothing less. The rich get a tax cut, while the rest of us get what? Unlimited guns, Bibles, and words like ‘wokeness’—whatever that means. They’re always trying to muddy things up. That’s what they do best, isn’t it? Anything to prevent them from actually DOING THEIR DAMN JOBS!" 

"Oh … oh … and listen to them talk about ‘Big Ag,’ ‘Big Tech,’ ‘Big Pharma,’ ‘Big Whatever.’ Okay, what about Big Greed? Why don’t we ever have a discussion about that one? Isn’t that the biggest of the ‘Big’? I mean, come on, man. Big Greed has got its foot down so hard on our throats that we can’t breathe no more. Big Greed is what’s actually killing this little blue planet of ours, don’t ya think? I mean, it’s all going to hell. We’ve been injecting poison into this sealed system for years now. Eventually, we’re all just going to die from the fumes." 

"I don’t know, what can we do about it now? It’s too late. Might as well enjoy it all while it lasts. Need to start building me an ark is what I need to do. Start gathering the animals in pairs! If it were only that easy. No, what we really need is for Jesus to come and save us from ourselves, because all this is literally killing us. We now have folks out there with enough money to buy a small country. I mean, nobody should be a billionaire. It’s just disgusting. Really. When is enough, enough? These guys should be ashamed that they’ve hoarded so much. You know, where do they think they’re going with all their money and gilded palaces? All these fat cats…" 

"What? … What’s that you say? They think they’re going to live forever by the miracle of technology?! They think AI and the singlelarity is going to save them? You know what I’d say to them if they were here right now? You know what? I’d say, Hey, Richie Rich, I got some news for you! You’re still going to die someday and be food for the worms! Ha! Then what will they do with all their riches and power? Right? Maybe they’ll put themselves in one of them erectile-dysfunctional rocket ships of theirs and coast in orbit for eternity with all their money. Hey, that could be a new thing!—at least there, the worms and the IRS wouldn’t be able to touch them. Boy, would that be something to see. It could happen; it could really happen. Space burial could be the next big thing. I might have to talk to my banker friends about that idea. Just look out for those satellites. Hey, we don’t want any accidents up there!"

"Oh, man. Whoo! What a ride it’s been for this old bugger. Was it really all worth it? You know, all the chasing after the wind? The new cars, the homes, the weekend getaways across the globe, the exclusive memberships, the pretty friends, the drinking, the drugs, the gambling, and having enough clothes to fill a stadium? Pshhhhh, I don’t know. It’s all just a blur now. I wasn’t that rich, really. Not by today’s standards. No, sir. But I had me some. I was worth something on paper at one time. I mean, you don’t work on Wall Street for forty years for nothin’! You wouldn’t know it by now, though. No, sir. It all came and went. Sure did." 

"Can I say I’m any happier after everything? I mean, that’s the question, isn’t it? That’s the million-dollar question, baby! Well, I got news for you—and this might be a bit of a shock—but there ain’t no happiness here. Nope, only the temporary kind. And to make it worse, the older you get, the fewer thrills there are. Because the first time really is the best! And that goes for everything—your first ice cream, your first slow dance, your first kiss (whoo-whoo!), first car, first home, first child, first grandchild…"

"You know, the other day I was browsing through the ten thousand songs I’ve collected over the years and couldn’t help but think that all the juice has been completely squeezed out of them. Totally squeezed out. Not. A. Drop. Any pleasure they once provided has gone, and all that’s left is a dry pulp. It’s no wonder us old farts get so bitter and depressed toward the end. All the fun has been sucked out of life, and we’re left standing in a desert with no idea what to do anymore. What can you depend on when the things and experiences that kept you going for so long are no longer available to you? I mean, what to do when you just see the emptiness in everything? I don’t know. I really don't know.”

And then, as if waiting for the perfect moment, she quietly asks in a whisper, “Can we go to the park now?”

“Sure, sunshine. Let Grandpa grab his coat. Hey, maybe we can stop and get an ice cream on the way back. How does that sound?”

—

This story and others are available as part of the collection "Hair on Fire — Stories for Seekers." Learn more.