It is Saint Paddy' day and nowhere is it more palpable than at the Shady Grove Nursing Home. The kitchen staff are mixing up vats of green beer, the halls are festooned with shamrocks and everyone is speaking with a phony Irish accent. All but Orville Reilly O'Reilly that is. His is real and the envy of all the men.
He has been eying her ever since he set his brown-sandalled foot down at the Grove. And he vows he will possess her from the bottom of her tiny, tinseled feet to the top of her fuzzy-bunned head.
To that end he started letting his eyebrows and moustache grow because he heard that Rose liked long hairy things. He didn't know they were talking about her cat Mojo.
As you all know Rose has been rumored to be involved with Boomer, the dashing young(er) biker and maintenance man. Rose however will admit to nothing more than friendship.
But what with Boomer set to go into hospital for major surgery Rose has been very worried and at loose ends. Since her arrest for reckless endangerment Boomer has hidden the key to his motorcycle so most of the time Rose just sits on it dreaming of bygone wheelies.
Sensing this void, O.R., like the predator that he is, stepped right in to fill it. Now he didn't want to burn his lips on another man's porridge so he first chatted her up in the lobby. She assured him that she was free, white and 91.
Then, at the morning post-bran flake and prune juice get-togethers, he wowed her with his knowledge of obscure alternative health remedies for arthritis and gout. And he was not afraid to laugh at himself. He could tell the funniest stories about his bodily functions and the time he lost his false teeth in the Jalapeno chip dip at a Bingo game.
The women all tittered as they fell under the thrall of his Irish brogue. The men drifted off dejectedly to play euchre leaving a clear field for O.R. They needn't have bothered as O. R. couldn't see anyone but Rose. It had been awhile since he had his peripheral vision checked. And he didn't want to wear his glasses till he was sure Rose would go out with him.
"You'll never plough a field by turning it over in your mind," said he to himself. So off he set for the lobby where he backed Rose into a potted cactus. Without further ado he asked her to accompany him to the Saint Patrick's day dance on pub night at the Grove.
He took her squirming and yelps of pain for those of excitement and delight and congratulated himself on a successful courtship.
Rose hastily accepted and limped off to her room to remove a cactus spine from her bony butt. She suppressed a giggle at the thought of how the other gals would turn an appropriate green when they heard of her date with the popular O.R.
Forthwith O.R. dashed off to his tailor to pick up his new sports coat.
Details of the party tomorrow.
Life's too short not to be Irish!
To that end he started letting his eyebrows and moustache grow because he heard that Rose liked long hairy things. He didn't know they were talking about her cat Mojo.
As you all know Rose has been rumored to be involved with Boomer, the dashing young(er) biker and maintenance man. Rose however will admit to nothing more than friendship.
But what with Boomer set to go into hospital for major surgery Rose has been very worried and at loose ends. Since her arrest for reckless endangerment Boomer has hidden the key to his motorcycle so most of the time Rose just sits on it dreaming of bygone wheelies.
Sensing this void, O.R., like the predator that he is, stepped right in to fill it. Now he didn't want to burn his lips on another man's porridge so he first chatted her up in the lobby. She assured him that she was free, white and 91.
Then, at the morning post-bran flake and prune juice get-togethers, he wowed her with his knowledge of obscure alternative health remedies for arthritis and gout. And he was not afraid to laugh at himself. He could tell the funniest stories about his bodily functions and the time he lost his false teeth in the Jalapeno chip dip at a Bingo game.
The women all tittered as they fell under the thrall of his Irish brogue. The men drifted off dejectedly to play euchre leaving a clear field for O.R. They needn't have bothered as O. R. couldn't see anyone but Rose. It had been awhile since he had his peripheral vision checked. And he didn't want to wear his glasses till he was sure Rose would go out with him.
"You'll never plough a field by turning it over in your mind," said he to himself. So off he set for the lobby where he backed Rose into a potted cactus. Without further ado he asked her to accompany him to the Saint Patrick's day dance on pub night at the Grove.He took her squirming and yelps of pain for those of excitement and delight and congratulated himself on a successful courtship.
Rose hastily accepted and limped off to her room to remove a cactus spine from her bony butt. She suppressed a giggle at the thought of how the other gals would turn an appropriate green when they heard of her date with the popular O.R.Forthwith O.R. dashed off to his tailor to pick up his new sports coat.
Details of the party tomorrow.
Life's too short not to be Irish!
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