You have got to hand it to Parky; she’s got one hell of an imagination. Not content with having pushed over an old lady and faced charges of GBH (true story), she has decided to spread a malicious rumour around the old people’s home in order to explain the high death rate to which such an institution is prone.
According to Parky, no one is safe.
It was upon my last visit to the home that I noticed a curious stain on her bedroom floor. A nurse wandered in to say hi and spotting my puzzled expression, explained that Parky has gotten into the habit of throwing her food on the floor. It was a gravy stain.
Me: Um, Parky…Why have you been throwing your sausages on the floor, it’s not very fair on the person who has to clean them up.
Parky: I was feeding Logan.
Me: (I’m not sure I remember Parky ever having a dog called Logan) Who’s Logan Parky…Was he one of your dogs?
Parky: DOGS?!!? Of course he isn’t a dog, he’s my pet tiger.
Parky explained that Logan the tiger had been roaming the corridors for a while now, eating other old people in the home. Parky, being the good samaritan that she is had decided to feed him her lunch every day so that she might discourage him from making a meal out of any more of her peers. I took a minute to digest this information before being interrupted by a loud SMACK!
Parky had lobbed a snickers bar across the room, sending peanuts flying.
“That’ll keep him going till you’re gone.”
Content that her imaginary world is far superior to my reality, I headed for the door, only to be halted by her parting words.
“Have you heard the good news darling? I’m pregnant.”