Read Online Geezer Paradise by Robert Gannon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Gannon
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The next morning we still hadn't made any workable plan to follow Stevens around so I was running some errands. I took a short-cut down a back road and up ahead I saw an accident. There were about a dozen cars pulled over, and a group of people were standing around looking down at the road. I figured somebody had been hit by a car. Poor bastard. I didn’t want to see it so I tried to pass, but the crowed waved for me to stop.
Damn. Wasn't there anybody there who was trained in first aid? I had gotten some first aid training when I worked for a short time as a security guard. I had to give up the job because I couldn't adjust to the overnights. I was afraid if I tried to help and did something wrong, I could get sued. They could take away my . . . what? My shoes if they were the right size? I pulled over and got out of the Wrangler. I worked my way into the crowd, but there was no accident victim. What was going on with these people? They were all looking down at the road but there was nothing there . . . except an oil stain. Why were they looking at an oil stain? The people seemed to be praying. I got nervous. No church holds services in the middle of a road.
"look," the woman next to me said, pointing down at the road. I looked, but there was still nothing there except the stain.
"Look at what?" I asked. All heads turned towards me.
"It's an angel," they shouted. My feet suddenly got cold, even though the road we were standing on was hot enough to fry an egg on.
"In the stain," the woman said. "See the wings and the robe?" I didn't. It just looked like an oil stain to me.
"Oh, yes," I lied. "Now I see it." The crowd seemed to relax then, now that I could see the angel. "Isn't that amazing," I said. Those around me nodded their heads in awe. I slowly worked my way out of the crowd, walked kind of fast to the Wrangler, jumped in and locked the doors. I started the engine and got the hell out of there. Sometimes I think I'm the last sane person in Florida--and I'm not too sure of myself, either. I'd say there must be something in the water, but I know the water is undrinkable.
Later that day Willey came by and we sat in my Florida room drinking beer.
Willey said, "I still can't get over that idiot Stevens shooting a spear gun at us."
"They must have been pretty drunk to do something like that," I said. "Or maybe they were doing something stronger than booze. You'd think a United States Senator would be more careful about who he hung around with." As I looked around the room I realized it was time I replaced some of the second hand furniture with new second hand furniture. The people in the park tell each other where to get the best price on second hand furniture and appliances, and even where to get the best prices on eyeglasses. But nobody has been able to find a dentist who didn't charge an arm and a leg. Maybe that's why dentists make more money than doctors these days.
The park residents don't have a lot of money, but they aren't poor. The poor have a look all their own. No, the park people had worked hard all their lives and taken care of their children. They lived here and not in a luxury condo because instead of putting their money into a portfolio, they sent their children to college. But living in the park isn't so bad. The park has paved roads and sidewalks, lawns, shrubs, and palm trees. The mobile homes have white concrete decorative blocks all around under the houses, so it looks like they have foundations. They can't hold a candle to the waterfront mansions, but
The next morning we still hadn't made any workable plan to follow Stevens around so I was running some errands. I took a short-cut down a back road and up ahead I saw an accident. There were about a dozen cars pulled over, and a group of people were standing around looking down at the road. I figured somebody had been hit by a car. Poor bastard. I didn’t want to see it so I tried to pass, but the crowed waved for me to stop.
Damn. Wasn't there anybody there who was trained in first aid? I had gotten some first aid training when I worked for a short time as a security guard. I had to give up the job because I couldn't adjust to the overnights. I was afraid if I tried to help and did something wrong, I could get sued. They could take away my . . . what? My shoes if they were the right size? I pulled over and got out of the Wrangler. I worked my way into the crowd, but there was no accident victim. What was going on with these people? They were all looking down at the road but there was nothing there . . . except an oil stain. Why were they looking at an oil stain? The people seemed to be praying. I got nervous. No church holds services in the middle of a road.
"look," the woman next to me said, pointing down at the road. I looked, but there was still nothing there except the stain.
"Look at what?" I asked. All heads turned towards me.
"It's an angel," they shouted. My feet suddenly got cold, even though the road we were standing on was hot enough to fry an egg on.
"In the stain," the woman said. "See the wings and the robe?" I didn't. It just looked like an oil stain to me.
"Oh, yes," I lied. "Now I see it." The crowd seemed to relax then, now that I could see the angel. "Isn't that amazing," I said. Those around me nodded their heads in awe. I slowly worked my way out of the crowd, walked kind of fast to the Wrangler, jumped in and locked the doors. I started the engine and got the hell out of there. Sometimes I think I'm the last sane person in Florida--and I'm not too sure of myself, either. I'd say there must be something in the water, but I know the water is undrinkable.
Later that day Willey came by and we sat in my Florida room drinking beer.
Willey said, "I still can't get over that idiot Stevens shooting a spear gun at us."
"They must have been pretty drunk to do something like that," I said. "Or maybe they were doing something stronger than booze. You'd think a United States Senator would be more careful about who he hung around with." As I looked around the room I realized it was time I replaced some of the second hand furniture with new second hand furniture. The people in the park tell each other where to get the best price on second hand furniture and appliances, and even where to get the best prices on eyeglasses. But nobody has been able to find a dentist who didn't charge an arm and a leg. Maybe that's why dentists make more money than doctors these days.
The park residents don't have a lot of money, but they aren't poor. The poor have a look all their own. No, the park people had worked hard all their lives and taken care of their children. They lived here and not in a luxury condo because instead of putting their money into a portfolio, they sent their children to college. But living in the park isn't so bad. The park has paved roads and sidewalks, lawns, shrubs, and palm trees. The mobile homes have white concrete decorative blocks all around under the houses, so it looks like they have foundations. They can't hold a candle to the waterfront mansions, but
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