Her womb was like a great navel orange ready to peel.

I was 100 years old.  I was afraid of my bones.  The toaster and the radio are the only two appliances I knew how to use.  Someone gave me a toaster and a radio in one, but I hadn't bothered to take it out of the box.  Another person gave me a microwave.  I threw it in the garden with a freezer full of frozen dinners.  The rabbits thanked me by not eating the lettuce and tomatoes, but I was too old to pick my own vegetables so I had my lawyer round them up and state in the will that this bucket of vegetables would go to whichever relatives I forgot to include.  After the lawyer harvested the garden and made the changes, it's safe to say that had my nephew Cleo and niece Marla been omniscient they would have been cheering for my death in that first week after the changes had been made if they wanted their inheritance to be fresh and unspoiled.  As it stood, those greens and tomatoes were useless and putrefied inside of two weeks.

 

I think about giraffes a lot.  I've never seen one.  My time to see one seems to have passed though I'm not quite sure what I would do if one of these animals stuck its head in my window.  There's a pretty good chance that I'd wet myself.

 

There's a wife somewhere.  For a few years I thought I ate her, but it turned out that I had only eaten a soggy biscuit I found in the bathtub.  The similarities are overwhelming.  For one, I don't know where either of them is anymore.  They could be hiding in my broom closet reading or in an old person's home for all I know.  Secondly, they both had mustaches though the soggy biscuit got its mustache from the hair stuck in the bathtub drain.  Third, neither the biscuit nor my wife has teeth.

Hooray for pills.

My bathroom is filled with prescriptions.  I don't even know what I'm supposed to take anymore.  I just grab a handful, say a little prayer, and then swallow.  Down go the micos, sinemets and methos.  I took the Miconazole for more than a year before I noticed it was supposed to be used to battle vagina fungus.  An artifact from when the soggy biscuit was here.  I still haven't stopped taking it though.  I see it as a form of prevention care.  The Sinemet is supposed to stop Parkinson's.  I chop this up and mix it with Topiramate which is supposed to prevent the shaking.  I do the same thing with Methotrexate and Methyldopa.  One is supposed to be an anti-arthritic and the other is to combat high blood pressure.  I don't know which is which or what one I should be more worried about.

Then there are the fuck pills.  I was skeptical, but I popped half the bottle the first time and posted up around town in search for women kinky and interested in men with a century worth of sexual procedural experience, but after an hour the fuck pills blacked me out and when I woke up I was in the bathroom of a tiny girl who was no more than 80 pounds.

"Did we do it?"

Yes, she nodded from the toilet.  I looked down at my naked body.  It had been at least twenty years since I dared look and I couldn't help but wanting to vomit and I think I did.  I told her to move out of the way and that's when I saw her shit was smaller than that of some I had seen toy poodles make.  I may have vomited or I may have blacked out again.  It's tough to say which came first.

 

And then one day I was almost 101.  I was walking down the sidewalk wondering who was still left to buy me a birthday cake when a mother was running with her stroller.  They ran from me.  I got confused and déjà vu in the same breath which felt weird like a virus that I knew I'd never be rid of and could only hope that it would go dormant from time to time.

So I ran after this woman and her stroller.  I hadn't run in years.  It's no surprise I couldn't catch her, but I kept running until the woman was pill size and I could pop her in my mouth and relax.  The virus was left lurking below the surface again.  I could stop running, but I was afraid to for fear that all my bones in my legs would be broken.  And this made me realize I had been crying since I began running after the woman in the stroller.  I only noticed because a pair of red mittens were wiping away the tears, and a new virus came over me, a new déjà vu was upon me, only it wasn't round and full like the orange I originally thought it to be.  No, it came in the form of a doubled set of red mittens pregnant, full of life, pawing at my face.

Yes, finally at 100 I could rest easy knowing my history wouldn't die with me.  I wasn't the last link.  I would at least live another generation at least and I would do it as two.