Greybeard? He Never Gives Up!

I pulled over to the side of the road due to the furtive waves of Greybeard who was walking down the street from his house. Graybeard’s house is just a few blocks over from my parent’s house – on my usual route to get there. He looked as excited as he gets. “Where are you going?” he asked as I rolled down my window. “I’m going by my parent’s house to get some sodas and then I am headed home,” I told him. “Will you drop me off across the river?” It looked like rain to me, but I said okay. The wind was also blowing something fierce, nasty and so cold. Graybeard also smelled so very strongly of underarm odor to the point it was offensive. “Drop me off here!” he said excitedly by the liquor store in West Point just as you came into town. “Sure!” I happily exclaimed, ready for some fresh air. “That was short and easy,” I thought fortuitously as I drove home. I usually get caught in some kind of rigmarole with regards to Greybeard.

Source: The 4th Avenue Blues - January 2, 2014 Category: Mental Illness Authors: Andrew Quixote Source Type: blogs