The Grumpy Old Man

My name is George Geoffreys, and I was born on the 14 April 1937. Now, wipe that smug grin off your face. Honestly, the youth of today. I know what you're thinking: "George", because apparently young people nowadays are too 'cool' too call me 'Mr Geoffreys'. Where was I? Oh yes. "Mr Geoffreys, you don't look any older than your early 20s." And you'd be right. I don't look any older than that. And if you saw my wife too, you'd say she was just out of school. But we're not that old. I'm 77 years old, and my wife, the love of my life, the gorgeous Mary, is 75.

So why do we look too young? Well, why not? Youth doesn't last forever. At least it doesn't normally. You'd be best remembering that. But for us, it can do. I mean, if you could look youthful forever, wouldn't you? And now I still know what you're thinking. "George", because you don't feel right calling someone 'Mr' who looks younger than you, "If you're so old, why do you look so young?" Well I've answered that already, if you'd bothered to listen to me. Oh...you meant how did we come to look so young? Well, that's a long story, and I doubt you'd want to listen to an old man ramble on about his life.

What a good thing I'm not an old man any more then. It all started a few months ago. It was an ordinary day, and I woke up to my wife sleeping soundly beside me. We were both old at this point, so just imagine a version of me about 50 or 60 years older. Now, I looked over at my wife, who was sleeping soundly. I love my wife, and I always have, but age is a nasty old thing. When we met, she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever laid eyes on. All the other lads wanted her, but she only had eyes for me, and for that I thank God.

Why am I chuckling at that? Oh, you'll understand later. Now, although Mary and I loved each-other, our sex lives had shrivelled to nothing. Ah yes, I forgot to mention, this story is a tad risqué, if you'll pardon my French. You look about old enough though. I'll bet a fine young specimen gets a fair amount of attention yourself in the downstairs area, if you catch my drift. Just don't tell your mother I told you this story, or we'll both be in hot water.

Where was I? Oh yes, our sex lives. By this point, we'd not had sex in over a year, and before that it was very limited touching. We still cuddled, but that was about the extent of our physical intimacy. Mary was past wanting it, and although I admit I wouldn't have minded some sex, I was a bit worried I might break something. And besides, like I've said, Mary wasn't exactly the most beautiful thing ever any more. On our street were some teenage girls, and seeing them made me wish for my youth back, so I could ravage them like my younger self would have.

Anyway, I gave my sleeping wife her usual good morning kiss, and got up for my shower. When I emerged and got dressed, I saw a note on our noticeboard in the kitchen, written in my wife's beautiful handwriting.

Gone out with the girls. Be back later. Love you.

Honestly, that woman and her friends. I don't see how they're not sick of each-other. I made myself breakfast, and sat down to watch some television. All modern rubbish of course. I watched a few minutes of the news, but it's all stuff about foreign people shooting other foreign people, and how we're all going to die of terrible illnesses. Honestly, back in my day, they actually played good news! It was all on the wireless back then, but nowadays that's all vulgar pop music.

Anyway, as I was watching, my phone began ringing. The landline that is. I can't be doing with one of those new fangled portable ones. If I've left the house, it's because I don't want people to talk to me. I answered the phone, and I heard some young whipper-snapper on the other end.

"Why hello there, George Geoffreys," the boy said to me.

"Who is this?" I demanded.

"A friend," the boy replied. "I'm calling to offer you a gift. The greatest gift in the universe. If you'd like it, come to 77 Heaven's Way. If not, well, I'll just keep bugging you until you do."

"Stop making jokes boy!" I scolded him. "I'll call your mother and tell her you've been wasting a poor old man's time with prank calls!"

The call then disconnected, and I put the phone down. I went into the kitchen, and was putting my crockery in the dishwasher, something my wife had insisted we get, and I admit, it has helped a lot, when I looked up at our noticeboard, and saw a note that wasn't there before.

The greatest gift in the history of the universe! All for YOU, George Geoffreys! Just come to 77 Heaven's Way!

I was confused and a little worried. Was this young prankster in my house? Before I had a chance to call the police, my wireless came on.

"And in other news, George Geoffreys can expect a lot more messages like this if he doesn't come to 77 Heaven's Way to claim his amazing gift!"

Something was definitely wrong. I decided that the only possible way I was going to get an explanation was to go and claim my so-called "gift". Heaven's Way was a short walk away, so I put on my shoes, hat and coat, and set off walking. When I got there, I found a normal-looking house. I approached it cautiously, and on the door, I saw a note (Typed, I noticed. And not on a good old-fashioned typewriter.), which said:

George Geoffreys, come in and sit down.

I opened the door, which was unlocked, and I walked through to the living room. It seemed fairly typical. Nothing overly special about it. I sat down on the sofa, and I noticed that there was a glass and a drink on the table, with the note Help Yourself. It was some of that awful cola stuff though. The stuff that hurts when you try to drink it. I was thirsty though, and I didn't want to be rude, so I poured myself a glass, and I drank it slowly. The taste wasn't awful, and it didn't hurt my mouth as much when I drank it slowly.