The Good Old Days

The good old days. Pfft!

If I have to hear another old fart refer to those days when people died younger, the internet wasn’t a thing, women couldn’t vote and shops weren’t open on Sunday I’m going to puke. Ok, maybe the last one isn’t a bad idea. At least the retail staff could spend some time with their families, then again part-time labour like myself wouldn’t be necessary.

It seems that every time I go home for a weekend my folks are watching old black and white shows and reminiscing about going to the bioscope on their first date. Oh please, bring me a barf bag while you’re up. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the term, they went to the movies. Even those are out of fashion with streaming from the comfort of your own bed. More comfortable for making out if you know what I mean.

“Hey Cole, where’s my rent money?”

“Cool your jets dude, I got it, I got it.” That’s my roommate – the reason for my job. Oh, I wish for the good old days when mom and dad paid ALL my bills.

by Debbie Gravett © 2020.1.22

FFFC: Flash Fiction Challenge #50
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