The epoch of a person only ends in Grotesquanny; Nanny's end is near, and her children and their children are trying their damndest to comfort this woman who has transformed into such a wreched person over the past couple of years - no doubt her anger has only been tempered by the hypocrisy that she has slowly been realizing over the past few final years of her one hundred. Nanny lay in this hospital bed, which is now her permanent bed, as she spends her entire life now in a socialist complex called a "nursing home". This retirement villa is nothing more than a prison, she has realized, and to think that she has spent her entire life propagating democracy only to end up in an autocracy is nothing more than blatant hypocrisy, and therefore a dismal ending to her being. She holds "Bible Code Annotated" against her bosom...
"Fuck this place," her children and grandchildren stand around her bed, "I'm in a Rat's hell!"
Her voice rasps and cackles like she's a witch - the grandchildren realize this stereotype, and therefore suppose that she has gone mad - their parent's assume this, also, as do the nursing staff, their administrators, and the President of the United States, who made the mistake of congratulating Nanny on reaching her 100th birth day...
You dumb bastard, it was my one hundredth birthday nine months ago! You savage hypocrite - on one hand you say that aborting baby fetuses is killing humans, but then on the other, you don't even recognize that the time I spent in my mother's fucking womb was part of my lifespan. You're a terrible person Mr. President, and I hope you rot in hell!
Though Nanny isn't really mad, she's perfectly sane - she has just lost all patience in dealing with hypocrisy; and after one hundred years of living on this planet, who wouldn't? She has felt the effects of neo capitalism; when her husband died, his pension went with him - and so did Nanny's. Her family was left with the bill of keeping her alive and well, which is why they moved her into a nursing home.
"You children ready for Christmas?"
The younglings nod with all honesty.
"Have you been to see Santa?"
Again, they nod.
"And," she touches one of the children on the hand, they flinch, understandably, "what kind of eggs, I mean, gifts, did you ask for?"
The little girl answeres quietly, "A cell phone."
"I'm sorry darling, what is it you said? Baskets?"
One of the parents impatiently pipes up for their daughter, "A cell phone, ma."
Nanny's face withers in confusion, "What the hell does she need a cell phone for?"
Constance, the daughter-in-law, and the source of the children's attention deficit problems, pipes in like a cornerstone bitch, "So we can stay in touch with her. If there is a problem, she can call us."
"But the girl is only five years old. I don't understand, why would she need to call you for anything?"
"It's just," Constance huffs, "what she wants."
Nanny's son reassures his mother, "But Santa will be the one who decides."
"Santa?" Nanny seems pissed, "Well tell Santa that little kids about five don't need any fucking cellular telephones."
The little girl's eyebrows crease in sadness.
"And if Santa gets you a cell phone, darling, let me know, because I'm going to write him a nasty letter if he does."
"Ma..."
"What happened to dolls? When I was a girl we got dolls for Christmas. And when we got the doll - we didn't even play with the damn thing. We just put it on a shelf and let it collect dusts. I played in my imagination. Start giving kids cell phones as toys - what the hell kind of message is that sending to them? It's not a toy - it's something that's high tech and flashy so she can walk around and show her friends, 'ooh look at me, I'm a hot little bitch, I've got a cell phone'."
Nanny then took the little boy's hand, "And what did you ask Santa? Not another cell phone I hope."
"I've allready got a cell..."
Constance yelps, "Just answer Nanny's question."
"I asked for an iPod."
"Oh now that sounds like fun, what does that do?"
"It play's music."
"Oh - you mean, like an instrument?"
"No, you put songs on it, like from C.D.'s and stuff."
"Oh."
"You can even watch video's on it."
"Oh my. That sounds nice."
"There's a codec on the internet that you can download, and It'll let you put any kind of video on there."
"I see."
"So I can put all my porno on there."
"Your what?"
"Porno."
"What?" Nanny laughs, "Pornography! You're only eleven." Nanny looks at Constance, "What's this about pornography?"
"Oh, he is into porno now. You know, he's getting to about that age, Nanna. We got him an account at a fairly clean website where he can you know, look and whatnot. Just so that he can get it out of his system before he gets into high school - his psychologist says that repressing sexual interest could be damaging in the long term - so we let him just, feed that interest, because it's going to happen anyway."
"I'm sorry," the Bible Code Annotated has slipped off her bosom and into the boy's hands, "I think I've slipped into one of the lower circles of hell. To save me, you must read that book in it's entirity."
"I can't Nanny."
"But why?"
"Dr. Psychologist thinks that religion might confuse my sexual desires."
"But," Nanny grasped the young boy's wrist, "I'll die."
The boy removes Nanny's hand from his young arm, "I'm sorry Nanny, but I can't, and you can't have my skin again, and you can't have my age again. You have built your own castle of despair, and I will not be the one who crashes it down, that will be you and the dusty wicker baskets that cloud your mind and hold nothing but a thin, arid air which only exists in the presence of moth balls. This arm you want again will not happen, and you can read these pages all you like if it makes you feel better, but it makes me feel like masturbation is bad, so although I feel sad, I've had enough of your brew, your doctrine; the nation you built was once yours, but now it's mine, and the grave we will dig for you one day will sometime later be subject to redistricting when I get tired of watching porno on my iPod. I would suggest cremation since cemetaries take up too much of my space."
"They've got my kids, Lord," Nanny whispered. "You motherfuckers! They've got the kids!"
Luciferians 3:676
