An ode to old age
There's quite an art to falling apart as the years go by,
And life doesn't begin at 40. That's a big fat lie.
My hair's getting thinner, my body is not;
The few teeth I have are beginning to rot.

I smell of Vick's-Vapo-Rub, not Chanel # 5;
My new pacemaker's all that keeps me alive.
When asked of my past, every detail I'll know,
But what was I doing 10 minutes ago?

Well, you get the idea, what more can I say?
I'm off to read the obituary, like I do every day;
If my names not there, I'll once again start -
Perfecting the art of falling apart

A story behind a gun
Big Louie the Torpedo was becoming increasingly curious about one of the newer members of his mob, Benny the Rod. Benny had been in the business for many years in another part of the country. During that time he had garnered quite a reputation for being the most conscientious and honorable hit man available. He was also considered quite eccentric, perhaps odd, in that for the last ten years or so he always kept one hand in his pocket - clutching his cold steel weapon in readiness (hence the nickname, Benny the Rod).

When Benny arrived at Louie's office, the question was put to him.

"So what's the story with you and this here gun of yours, eh? Like, are you scared or somethin' or you just want to always be ready or what?"

"Not scared ..." Benny growled, "been doin' it dis way ever since me sister-in-law's weddin' 'bout ten ten years ago now".

"Oh yeah? ... so ...?"

"Well, I used ta know her fiance at da time - a no good chisler. He never even loved the goil so much ... but he made her happy and so I kept me mouth shut about it", Benny explained.

Louie leaned in, expecting the point of the matter.

"And since dat time I gotta do it dis way".

"But WHY?!", Louie finally demanded?

"Well, I was at da wedding", grumbled Benny, and I wasn't about to say nuttin' about it then, so now I gotta do like da preacher said ...

"Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Piece!"