Growing Old Ain't for Sissies

          YOUR OWN AGE AND  THINKING,"SURELY  I CAN'T LOOK THAT OLD."

          WELL, YOU'LL  LOVE THIS ONE:

          MY  NAME IS ALICE , AND I WAS SITTING IN THE WAITING ROOM FOR
          MY FIRST  APPOINTMENT WITH A NEW DENTIST.

          I  NOTICED HIS DDS DIPLOMA ON THE WALL, WHICH BORE HIS FULL NAME.
          SUDDENLY, I  REMEMBERED A TALL, HANDSOME, DARK-HAIRED BOY
          WITH THE SAME NAME HAD BEEN IN  MY HIGH SCHOOL CLASS SOME
          30-ODD YEARS  AGO.

          COULD  HE BE THE SAME GUY THAT I HAD A SECRET CRUSH ON,
          WAY BACK  THEN?

          UPON  SEEING HIM, HOWEVER, I QUICKLY DISCARDED ANY SUCH THOUGHT.

          THIS  BALDING, GRAY-HAIRED MAN WITH THE DEEPLY LINED FACE WAS
          WAY TOO OLD TO HAVE  BEEN MY CLASSMATE.

          AFTER  HE EXAMINED MY TEETH, I ASKED HIM IF HE HAD ATTENDED
          MORGAN PARK HIGH  SCHOOL .

          "YES.  YES, I DID. I'M A MUSTANG," HE GLEAMED WITH PRIDE.

          "WHEN  DID YOU GRADUATE?" I ASKED.

          HE  ANSWERED, "IN 1975.  WHY DO YOU ASK?"

          "YOU  WERE IN MY CLASS!" I EXCLAIMED.

          HE  LOOKED AT ME CLOSELY.

          THEN,  THAT UGLY,

          OLD,

          BALD,

             WRINKLED  FACED,

          FAT-ASSED,

          GRAY-HAIRED,

          DECREPIT

         S.O.B.

          ASKED,

          "WHAT  SUBJECT DID YOU TEACH?"
 

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