There's a guy in the building who, for the last six years, has been coughing up lung after lung directly into the courtyard morning, noon and night. This man, clearly suffering either from emphysema or tuburculosis, has a very specific, almost musical coughing pattern: It starts off with one cough, then a small series of coughs occur, each increasing in intensity and viscosity before finally flourishing with a mucous-filled gag-crescendo.
While I've never seen or met this man, I do get upset when Ol' Chokey quiets down, which will happen often for weeks or months at a time. I start to think about what might have happened to him. Are his windows just closed? Or is he in the hospital on his death bed? Maybe he's already perished! Of course, he could be in Hawaii sipping rum out of a coconut for all I know. Whatever the reason, just when I think he's gone forever, his cough resurfaces--no better or worse than before. It's oddly reassuring to know that this fragile old man is still somehow cheating death after smoking for what must be 85 years.
But with the arrival of this NeighborGoodie, I fear Chokey may be gone forever:
I haven't heard his infectious cough for weeks now and the only clue left behind is this literature from the Sunrise Senior Living retirement community, which has hundreds of locations around the world.
As far as old age homes go, this place seems pretty nice. According to their website, they encourage independent lifestyles for their customers, including this wacky gentleman:
So if you're a crazy old person who likes to wear bucket hats, then this is the place for you! But I fear Chokey's children may have banished him to this home while leaving behind some of his more unique items, like this t-shirt...
...which I cannot figure out for the life of me:
Clearly, it is depicting some sort of underwater scene... but I'll be damned if I know what the crap it is. Sometimes it looks to me like a whale with a whole in it. Or it could be a scuba diver bent in half, wearing suspenders while trying to untangle himself from seaweed. Or it might even be a picture of Ol' Chokey himself, possibly wearing these rubber boots:
Well, no matter where Chokey is, be it in the Sunrise Retirement home for the Sunset of his life or underwater tangled up in seaweed, or even dead and buried--he's still better off than those of us living in