Sixty-nine

I wake to the sound of Japanese Zero fighters bombing the house. Well, the tv is loud enough to make you think it’s the house, but it’s just my 87 year old half-blind, half-deaf, sedentary father blasting another WW2 film at 6:30 AM.

General Yamamoto is vanquished, and dad’s new menace is COVID. He’s rightly worried, because he’s a poster child for co-morbidity. A diabetic, he can eat a box of cookies in a single sitting. Door Dash delivers enough junk food to sink the Arizona.

But the horse is out of barn and ain’t coming back. Reload the insulin.   

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