Member-only story
I Have To Write
Beer and donuts cost money
I will become a 69-year-old guy next month, edging closer to my sell-by date. Some friends and relatives question my choice of being a writer. They look at me with either sadness or with disdain as if I had declared a wish to become a porn star. I chose to be a writer because I have had my stocks and retirement pension evaporated back in the economic crash of 2008. My last job forced retired me out, due to age-related physical problems that impacted performance. My other reasons for being a writer are as follows:
I Marvel at whispers of “The Ancient One” while I sat in the waiting room heard from counselors at an employment center.
The almost but not quite the same physique of “Captain America” that I had in my younger days in the Navy has morphed in a resemblance of the new “Fat Thor”
My past agility of almost being similar to “Spiderman” is now closer to the stiffness and slowness of “Groot”
But the worst part of being an old dude is that there is no longer a “Hulk” to come out of me.
Unless I can find some “Infinity Stones” to revert my aging body to past days of glory, my superhero days are long gone.
Beer, snacks, and donuts require money. Therefore, for that reason alone, I choose to be a writer! What’s your excuse?
