I was always nearsighted, which required me to wear glasses so that I could see distant things clearly. But as I aged, I found I was having trouble reading things like books and newspapers. My eyes just couldn’t focus.
I went to see my ophthalmologist and he said I needed bifocals. That would enable me to see things both far away and close up.
But bifocals? Fuhgeddaboudit. Bifocals are for old people. So I went to see my pharmacist buddy, Doctor Marx, at the Highgate Pharmacy, and he fixed me up with a pair of “cheaters” for just twenty bucks.
(100 words)
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: CEAyr.
“Cheaters,” by the way, is a colloquialism for reading glasses in my neck of the woods. Also, for what it’s worth, the tomb of Karl Marx is located at the Highgate Cemetery in London. But I chose to ignore that piece of evidence sticking to a page in the book for this piece.
“No, I won’t,” Howie said, folding his arms defiantly across his chest.
“I want to do a conga line dance,” Mildred said. Her four adult children were visiting Mildred at her nursing when Barbara, the oldest, asked her mother what she wanted to do.
“Tacky,” Adele said as she looked around and offered her unsolicited opinion about the restaurant’s decor. “What is that monstrosity on the wall? A papier-mâché orca? Really, Gladys, why would you even suggest a place like this for our weekly lunch?”
“The forecast is calling for rain this weekend,” Anna said. “Maybe we should put off the yard sale until next weekend.”