Dancin Jackson Wants Qualilty!
I Want Quality Living..forget quantity!
“You get my drift?”
“Who wants to live forever?” That’s what I always ask. “If I am strung out and flat on my back, hey, forget about it. Yeah, I’d sooner be dead than flopping around like a fish out of water. You know what I mean? No sir, give me quality living everytime."
That’s Dancin Jackson speaking for you. Your not so average fifty plus guy. I mean this dude is way out there when it comes to being in top notch physical condition. No kidding. Old Dancin Jackson has the body of a man fifteen years younger. The women eat him up.
And why shouldn’t they? He works at it. He wants quality living.I mean like five days a week this dude works out-runs 5 miles a day; swims a mile in the pool; and lifts weights..lifts 350 lbs. Additionally, he just got off a seven year martial art journey..receiving his 2nd Degree Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do. The guy started that when he was only 57 years old. This is what Jackson means by quality living.
Lookout! There Dancin Jackson goes now. Strolling down Main Street, Midwestern Town U.S.A. Old Jackson was feeling on top of his game. No question about it. He loves quality living. Just look at him go… Looking in the display windows at the pretty girls dressed so smartly..with their lattest fashion apparel.
Crash, bang and c/’??**!! Almighty! “Look out!” cried the heavy set lady standing next to Dancin Jackson’s right side.
“Somebody help! Call the ambulance.”
There lay Dancin Jackson, spread eagled on the sidewalk with his face on the pavement and his arms hanging over in the gutter.
A crowd of people formed around Dancin Jackson. Mostly curiosity seekers. “Oh my God, is he dead?”
“No, he just tripped and fell”, yelled a another by-stander.
Five minutes latter, the ambulance came screaming down the road with its siren blaring.
What a site to behold. The ambulance came screeching right up over the curb. The paramedics jumped out and raced over to Dancin Jackson.
Dancin Jackson was conscious now. You could hear him moaning and gasping for air.
The paramedic next to him asked, “ You alright Mr.?”
“What happened? Am I dying? I can’t breath. My chest hurts.”
“Just take it easy Mr. We will have you up and out of here lickity split and straight to Big Comfort Community Hospital. From what I can tell you are suffering from a heart attack.”
“A heart attack! Hell bells Mr. Marine, that can’t be possible. I work out all the time. I’m into quality living. You know what I mean?
Dancin Jackson passed out as the medics picked him up and put him in the ambulance.
Dancin Jackson regained consciousness as the ambulance raced down Main Street. “A stroke? That’s impossible..please Dear God let me live.”
Three hours latter, there was Dancin Jackson laying in the bed at Big Comfort Community Hospital.
“Mr. Jackson..Homer Jackson?” asked Dr. Dogood. “Mr. Jackson, I am Dr. Dogood. I am your attending physician. Can you hear me?”
“Yeah Doc. I hear you. What’s wrong with me? Will I live?”
“You will live Homer, but things from now on are going to be different for you.”
Old Dancin Jackson looked straight up at the Doc, “What do you mean different?”
Perspiration began rolling down Dancing Jackson’s face.
“Mr. Jackson, I’ve heard around town that you have a thing for Quality Living. At least that’s what some of the nurses here tell me. And, that you’re not very interested in Quanity or how long you live?”
“Hey Doc, I might have said that a couple of times. But, I was only kidding around. You know.”
“I am mighty glad to hear that Mr. Jackson, because you are going to need some Little Helpers to keep you going. You know what I mean?”said the Doc with a funny little twisted smile on his face.
“Hell no. What are you talking about..Little Helpers?”
“You know Mr. Jackson..some Little Helpers. Things to keep your heart and circulation shakin and bakin.”
“Please Doc. Whatever it takes. I don’t want to die.”
Six months latter at the Super Piggly Wiggley Store, Mrs. Hockstrom was walking down the fresh meat aisle. She was pushing her shopping cart chuck full of groceries. As she glanced at her grocery list, she heard a God awful racket right in back of her. It sounded like Spike Jones and Tin Pan Alley warming up.
Mrs. Hockstrom turned around to see what the racket was all about. She had a very pained look on her face.
Trying not to stare, she noticed this bent over old man pulling three machines with four foot electrical cords in back of him. She noticed the machines had little plastic like labels on each machine..One read “Little Helper heart pump“; another read “Little Helper breathing machine”; and one read “Little Helper anti-depression”. There was actually, a fourth machine that said, “Little Helper that manages the Little Helpers”.
A kindly old lady named Mrs. Flagstone walked over to Mrs. Hockstrom and she touched very gently Mrs. Flagstone on the arm,”Excuse me, but see that poor wretched old guy?”
“See him? How could any living human being not see him. That’s the most pathetic sight of a human I have ever seen in my life. I hate to say it, but he’d probably be better off dead.”
Mrs. Flagstone pointed at the poor old man after he passed by, “That’s Dancin Jackson.”
“No, that couldn’t be Dancin Jackson!”
“It sure is.”
Dancin Jackson began to smile as he pulled his Little Helpers down the fresh meat aisle and looked at the hamburger patties, “I’m getting good at this..I can keep my Little Helpers in line close to me and still see my shopping list and the grocery items at the same time. This is real quality living. Look out world, who knows what I can do tomorrow? Thanks Dr. Dogood...give me "Quantity" anytime!”(to be continued)Jackson Stands For Greatness
posted by jackson @ 2:23 PM
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