Looking Good (Part Three)
My father and I were visiting an old friend of his at the nursing home he now called home.
“Wouldn’t you like to stay in a facility like his?” I asked my father on the drive there.
“No,” he answered.
I don’t think my beautiful wife would like it either.
Like the end of Down & Out In Beverly Hills, we’d all stand there looking at him leave, and then, at the last second, make the mistake of inviting him back to stay with us.
His friend was happy to see us.
“You look good, you son of a bitch!” he told my father.
“I lost twenty pounds,” my father bragged.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” my father assured him, “but you should have seen me before I gained it all back.”
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