Essie was sitting in her favorite chair doing her knitting, which was becoming more of a challenge due to the recent flair-up of the arthritis in her hands. She looked over toward Bert, her husband of almost sixty years, who was sitting comfortably on the couch reading a book.
“Bert,” she said, “have you given any thought to what you’d like us to do for our anniversary?”
Bert put his book down on his lap and looked over at Essie. “Our anniversary? When is that?”
“It’s the middle of next month,” Essie explained.
“Didn’t we just have one of those about a year ago?”
“Oh ha ha,” Essie responded, a bit of playful sarcasm in her voice. “I’m serious, Bert. We should plan something.”
“Yeah, I imagine we should,” Bert acknowledged. Then he picked up his book and started reading again.
Essie sat in silence waiting for Bert to come up with at least one suggestion. After around two minutes without an utterance from her husband, she re-engaged. “Bert, we need talk about this.”
“Talk about what?” Bert inquired.
“Jesus, Bert,” Essie blurted out. “I think you’re starting to get senile, you old fart.”
At that point, Bert leaned to his left on the couch and let out a rather loud and long fart.
Crinkling up her face in disgust while putting her hand over her nose, Essie said, “Oh gross. Was that really necessary?”
“I had a great idea about how we could spend our anniversary together,” Bert answered, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “But then, when I farted, it was gone with the wind,” and he started laughing almost hysterically.
Essie patiently waited until Bert’s laughing jag ended. She flashed her dreaded stink eye look at Bert and calmly said, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
This post was written for Sandi’s Manic Monday challenge based upon the song title “Imagine.”