We were forced to visit our grandfather. It was a different experience if we went to his house, but down a functional hip and both knees, slipped all but free from the ability to tend to himself, it was our honor to drop in at Care Free Days a/k/a Old People Prison. Cameras everywhere, even on the eerie cheerful attendants, but in the credit column, all the ice cream sundaes an atrophied belly could hold every Thursday afternoon.
My brother Grant drove us once he got his license. If I remember right, he brought his girlfriend once, a Tina or Lisa. She got kicked off the cheerleading squad for gut-punching some alumni with 'busy hands'. Grant thought the old guy might get a kick out of that.
Grandpa's room was warm. Tropical. A hint of recent bowel movement hung in the air like he'd let slip the goods courtesy some sixth sense alerting him the next generation of Mishkin was imminent.
Five years or so ago, Grant lost his hat investing in residential smart apps. Hackers locked people out of their apartments and homes. In some cases, pets starved and stovetops overheated. Kids died in fires.
One glimmer of hope, some sexbot owner remotely directed his sexbot to throw breaker switches and turn his condo into a dark unplugged oasis. Then he used a backup copy of the sexbot's software to contact the virus and implant a countervirus. From said seed a beanstalk clobbered the invasion force.
Post-near apocalypse, a network interviewed the man and his heroic sexbot. Merle told the host to celebrate he'd be getting Miralove Touch a brand new head, one of the series 6000LUX complete with cutting edge facial responses.
Grant says it's a damn shame technology wasn't cutting edge back when Grandpa was still kicking. Cheerleaders with devastating right hooks were one thing, but sexbots would've revolutionized retirement living. Think of the pizazz a Miralove Touch couldn't help but inject into an ice cream sundae Thursday.
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