Aporia (a-po’-ri-a): Deliberating with oneself as though in doubt over some matter; asking oneself (or rhetorically asking one’s hearers) what is the best or appropriate way to approach something [=diaporesis].
My name’s Ted.
Where was I going? Where was I? Where did I want to be? Where didn’t I want to be? I knew the answer to that: not the “Earth Angel Rest Home”—a euphemism for The End.
I’m not ready for that. I can still get off the toilet on my own, and walk around pretty good. I can’t drive anymore. My wife used to do that for me—taking me anywhere I wanted to go. But she’s gone now. She ran off with the guy who mows our lawn. He still mows the lawn so that’s not a problem.
Uber’s too expensive to just take me to CVS down the hill. Grocery shopping is hell—I use the shopping cart as a walker and I’m so slow, it takes a whole hour just to shop for me.
Then, it dawned on me: I could hire a woman to live with me, a sort of a pay-as-you-go wife without all of the legal hassles if you want get rid of her—you just fire her.
I found this place on the web where I could hire a woman to “take care of my needs.” They had a menu with thumbnails of the women. I looked under “Blond Bombshells,” and found one I wanted: “Judy, petite, energetic go-getter, cooks, cleans house, does laundry & more. Real hottie, $200 per week.”
The “real hottie” caught my eye. Maybe she would make me feel young again. Her photo was suggestive of that. So: nursing home: No. Home alone: No. Live-in maid. Yes!
She showed up at noon as promised. We talked for awhile and got to know each other quite well. She asked if I wanted to go for a ride. I jumped at the chance. I had not been out of the house for a week. this was going to be fun.
POSTSCRIPT
They took a ride down by the river, pulled over, and stopped. Judy’s boyfriend Mondo Johnny, popped out of the bushes brandishing a Glock. He pulled poor old Ted out of the car and shot him dead. They threw him into the river, and drove back to the house. They ransacked it and took everything of value that they could get their hands on. Ted’s coin collection alone was worth $100,000 dollars! Some of his antique porcelains were worth thousands.
The doorbell rang, and Judy answered it. It was Ted’s wife. She came in and asked where Ted was.
Mondo shot her dead.
Mondo and Judy left her lying on the living room floor, ran out the front door to the car, jumped in and drove away with Dell Shannon’s “My Little Runaway” blasting on the radio.
This wan’t what Ted had bargained for. He probably should’ve chosen the “Earth Angel Rest Home.”
