The Old Way (A Short Story) Part 1 (NEW SHORT STORY DAY!)
Today we start a new story! If you didn’t already, why not check out His Dirty Little Portal?
Now then … let’s move onto Part 1 of The Old Way.
New Kid
There’s this new kid at the home. He’s fresh faced, bushy-tailed, and he’s seventy-eight. A real greenhorn.
He’s new to the Old Way. We’ll teach him what he needs to know. He’ll learn. He’ll … wait … I forgot what I was talking about.
Well …
This kid’s from Manchester. He was dropped off at the Rainworth Care Home by some young couple. Maybe they were his children, or grandchildren. I can’t tell. They all look the same to me. The girl had tattoos all over her arms and holes in her ears that looked like puckered buttholes. She was whining in her northern accent about the smell.
“Christ, it smells like a mix of talcum powder and urine in here,” she said as she walked past me.
She was right. It did smell like talcum powder and urine. That was because I’d rubbed talcum powder into my skin and I’d also rubbed urine into my trousers.
The boy that was with her didn’t say much. He had his handheld touchscreen phone out. His gormless eyes were fixed to it. Occasionally he’d rub it or flick it. I think I saw him blow a kiss to it. Whatever he was doing, he shouldn’t be doing it in public, maybe not even in private.
So there were these two babies, I don’t know, thirties, forties. Sour faces and shiny gadgets. They didn’t know they’d been born. They have all the time in the world and look, one’s an ink-fiend and the other’s a digital pervert.
The new guy, the greenhorn, I think his name is Donald. I think this, because when the nurse led him and his babies to his new room, she said “This way, Donald” and she looked right at him as she said it. So I figure that’s probably his name.
I watched them from my room across the hall and I saw that Donald was sad.
He shouldn’t be.
For him, this is where life begins.
The Old Way
Have you ever been in a rush, and found yourself stuck behind an old person. All the while thinking, “Oh my God, please move out of the way or hurry up.” But the old person doesn’t hurry up. In fact they go slower. This is the Old Way.
Have you ever driven behind an old person? Torturous, isn’t it? An old person drives well below the speed limit. They indicate far before they need to and will take an excessive amount of time to turn. This is the Old Way.
Have you ever looked at an old man and thought “Why are his trousers so high? They’re by his nipples, dammit. It’s hurting my eyes.” This is the Old Way.
Have you ever been trapped within close proximity of an old person? Maybe in an elevator or a car, and smelled what could only be a combination of urine and Brie? This is the Old Way.
None of this is by accident.
The Old Way has been around for all of time, and even before it, and perhaps will be after it too. It will continue to live on as long as there are old people. Which will be always.
So when that old lady with red lipstick on her teeth pinches your cheek so hard you want to cry, do not think that she is clumsy with her affection. Understand that she knows full well the pain she induces. And when she kisses you on the cheek leaving waxy red marks, she knows that it’s difficult to clean off. She knows it’s a “pain in the arse” as the youths call it.
Yes. It’s the Old Way. It has and will always be present, hiding just beneath the surface, camouflaged in beige and brown with pockets filled with hard boiled sweets and an affection for numbered balls.
Yes kiddies. The Old Way is here and it’s really, really going to get on your nerves.
The Ritual
It was one a.m. when I heard a knock at my door. I got out of bed. This took time. I put on my dressing gown. More time. I grabbed my walking stick and walked to the door. It was now quarter past. I was tired.
When I opened the door I saw Gerald from further down the hall. I saw his wrinkly little face poking out of his dressing-gown hood. He looked like a mole emerging from a tunnel.
“It’s time,” he told me in his southern wheeze. “It’s time to meet the pledge.”
“Pleb?” I said.
“Pledge,” he repeated.
“Right,” I said.
I looked behind him and I saw Susan. A lifelong smoker, always in fur, always tutting. She looked like she’d spent her life sucking tiny mints. When I say tiny, I mean the tiniest.
“So soon?” I said. “He only moved in today.”
“We lost Carol last week. Our numbers are falling. We need pledges.”
“Okay,” I said, and I pulled my hood up. “We have to be quiet though. Dean is on patrol tonight. He has the best hearing of all the night-men. Much better than Gary.”
We made the journey across the hall to Donald’s door. Gerald didn’t knock. Instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. He took the first key on the ring, lifted it to his face to closely inspect it through his thick glasses, and then slotted it into the keyhole. It didn’t work. He moved onto the next key. It didn’t work. And then the next and so on.
By the time he found the right key it was nearly two a.m.
Once inside we found Donald asleep. He was snoring. Next to his bed was his duffel bag. He hadn’t unpacked yet. We spread out around him. We would’ve tip-toed if we were physically able to, but had to settle with shuffling.
Gerald then pulled out a long candle and a lighter.
“Vetus Quaero Puer Ridiculam,” he said before ceremoniously slapping his thigh, pulling his ear, and lighting the candle.
“Vetus Quaero Puer Ridiculam,” me and Susan repeated, and then slapped our thighs and pulled our ears.
“It begins,” Gerald said and then nodded to Susan. She nodded back, raised her hand, and slapped Donald across the face. Watching Susan’s twig-like fingers make contact with Donald’s cold, dead, sleeping face made me chuckle.
And then ... and then he woke.
Thanks for the post man. Love it @lukeofkondor
No worries :) Thanks for the nice words.
This is very funny. The atmosphere reminds me of the rural secret society in Hot Fuzz. Looking forward to part 2.
Yeah lol I love that film so I'm pretty sure it's influence will be strong in this story. And thanks for the kind words :)
You have my up-vote and I will try to promote your through my blog.
I loved everything in this post. Great job man. keep it up.
No, you keep it up!
:) Thanks for the encouragement.