Freddogg Off The Chain

I said, “Hey Babe. Roll your walker on the wild side.”

My loyal wife has known me for 45 years through variations of 85 pounds in weight and 16 sport coat sizes. Like all good women she loves her man, be he half the man or twice the man she married.

When I taught Psychology to high school students I always emphasized to them the importance of not revealing their personal information to the class and that when I told stories they weren’t to go running down the hall to my English teacher wife and exclaim, ”Miz Fred. Do you know what Fredman just said”?

That of course cinched the fact that Miz Fred would be the first place they would run to break any shared trust we shared as teacher and students.

One particular class I was explaining to them the difference between lust and love and ask them if raw lust always preceded true love and could love exist overtime outside of lust?

We were at the door waiting for the bell to ring and this girl ask me, ”Fredman. Would you still love Miz Fred if she grew to be 350 pounds?”

“Heck no!” I responded. “I’m much to shallow a person for that.”

They all laughed, said I was so wrong, then there was a track meet down the hallway so they could be the first to tell my wife. Now Susan knows by nature I must take the joke that’s given to me but she didn’t like being in the joke and she never mentioned that I had become the fat guy of her childhood dreams.

Transition now to those burly and fit alpha males, who spend a lifetime in Pabst Blue Ribbon euphoria, just barbequing beef while loving their fat women with potato salad lustfulness.

I’m thinking of one guy in particular who had a bunch of kids with his 400 pound wife and he should have loved her because she was wonderful and funny and he did love her up one side while repelling down the other.

Life moved on, the woman died, the guy got old, procured a renewable prescription for Viagra, and drove his pick-up everyday to the sandy shores of Tully Town Lake in Bristol where he drank coffee, reminisced on his past, told stories of his grandchildren, and jerked off his friends.

That’s right, a senior citizen “Blue Throbber Club” began and these 80 year old widowers got club cab friendly with each other like every freaking morning. I have no idea as to the range of their sexual peccadilloes, I can only imagine but I won’t.

I often told my students that when a person was rolled through the doors of a nursing home there should be a hedonistic exit strategy in place. I told them that all drugs and vices should be on the table as long as it didn’t impact the dignity of the unwilling observer or unwitting participate. “Get this old bag of bones off of me!”

I don’t know who invented the half ball as skirt cover on black wheeled walkers but I do know all men enjoy rolling with the homies-or homos-or whatever?

Peace

Papa Freddogg