The Austrian Aroma (LSD, #5)

6. Tarot Woman

Tarot Woman

Our four Twilight Zone Bond boys are mobile enough to take over my job as a groceries delivery boy. They have one mental problem: they expect top speed to be a top priority. I assure them speed isn't the case. The case is filled with groceries and it has to be delivered, best before the «best-before» date.

I give my foot soldiers some pep-talk, to prepare them for their mission: "Size and speed don't matter, as long as it moves. Life is movement. Every step forward not only brings you closer to your goal, but it's also a goal by itself: make that step forward and enjoy the trip, or stay at home and bore yourself to death. Without movement, you're not living. If you prefer the life of a ruminant cow, start eating grass. If you want a better dinner, work for it. Being an action hero has nothing to do with your physical or mental health. It's attitude. Learn something new every day. Sticking to old ideas and antique opinions is like refusing to move forward, like ignoring education, like denying evolution, like not living at all. When you show me you are willing to take the first steps, you'll give me the time I'll need to help you with the next ones."

The organization that runs the home doesn't have a budget for saving the world, and neither does the LSD. I pay, out of my own pocket, for the groceries we'll need to feed our troops, and for everything else. The money isn't the problem; I always have a lot of cash on me when I'm on a mission. Money in your pocket is THE best guarantee against any disaster; you can buy the solution or you can hire someone to solve the problem for you. With my spiPhone, I find and order several second-hand scooters and electric chairs, delivered asap, to transform our army of foot soldiers into cavalry. Recouping my investment will be of later concern and... there's always the chance Shirley is right and Death comes to get me before the end of today's chapter. I can't take it with me...

During the three-hour walk in the drizzle to Super Oberkräuter and back (it's a mile to get there and another 1.600 metres to return home, but it's a training and not an attempt to break the world record), I walk up with Frans Waltz, to chat and get to know each other.

"Those young boys. They run a mile in a minute. I tell them. Running is bad for your health. But they don't listen.", he pants, making a disapproving gesture to those three youngsters with their walking frames, running ten metres ahead of us.

We take a break, so Frans can smoke a thin cigar to catch his breath. He obviously knows what's good for him, thanks to his 83 years of life experience: "Do you know the eight stages of the life of a man? At five years old, a man is a hero when he doesn't piss himself. At ten years old, a man is a hero when he has friends. At fifteen years old, a man is a hero when he has money. At twenty years old, a man is a hero when he has sex. At fifty years old, a man is a hero when he has sex. At sixty years old, a man is a hero when he has money. At seventy years old, a man is a hero when he has friends. At eighty years old, a man is a hero when he doesn't piss himself."

After the coughing, he puts out the cigar, and we continue our mission.

"I'm surprised you are all in such outstanding health. You're living in a home permanently. I expected to find nothing but demented travellers of the Alzheimer Express and people who can't get out of bed anymore."

"We're not demented patients. We're cemented patients. When you're old like me, your joints feel like greased with cement, your muscles feel like filled with cement, and there's cement dust in your brain, making it concrete-hard to think, remember, and concentrate..."

"That's what today's training is for. Your body is like an old tap: you'll have to open and close it several times per day, to avoid it becomes rusty. Your brain is a muscle too; it works better when you use it as much as you can. People who speak more than one language have a spectacular lower chance of suffering from dementia."