The Duel by Chris Woodward

“Who’s ready for their vitamins?”

The instant the question/announcement was made, nearly all the geriatrics that were still mobile, burst out of their chairs and shuffled lazily towards the tray. With all the urgency of the formation of fossils, they crowded around the green-clad orderly.

Their voices were withered and scratchy from lack of usage as they growled out, “Give me Barney!” or “I want Dino!”

With a slight grin on his face, the orderly doled out the Flintstones Kids vitamins to the senior citizens. The supply dwindled and the elderly residents painfully returned to their seats. They sucked on their tiny vitamins and continued watching Touched by An Angel reruns on the PAX network.

“Last two vitamins! Who wants them?” Three more elderly people were standing around shaking in anticipation waiting for the vitamins as if they were the cure for aging, or at the least, the cure for denture slippage.

Suddenly, the three geriatrics dropped their heads in defeat as they heard the mighty whir of electric power. Randy Doppelganger honked the bright pink bicycle horn on the handlebars of his electric scooter as he burst through the door. Well, not burst since there wasn’t a door but a threshold. So Randy burst across the invisible plane of the threshold. Either way it was majestic and yet menacing.

“Out of my way! Jazzy Electric coming through!” His voice rang out in the community room and all obeyed it. Randy was the ultimate senior citizen biding time at Morningwood. He was the Social Security-collecting equivalent of the Fonz. Randy was the embodiment of a jock who gropes your girlfriend as he tells you to ‘sit on it.’ All the elderly feared him, and obeyed his every demand. Randy got the bowl of chocolate pudding with the layer of skin in it. Randy got to pick between ‘The Price is Right’ and infomercials. And, best of all, Randy got his pick of the Flintstones vitamins.

“There had better be a Pebbles left, or someone’s walker is going to have a screw loose!” He announced to the room as he scanned the line up of vitamins. His wrinkled and gnarled fingers picked up a purple colored vitamin and slipped it between his quivering lips. Randy sat back on his faux-leather seat and smugly enjoyed the vitamin.

“Hey, I wanted Pebbles!” The whole room turned their heads and stared at the TV. Randy fixed his glassy-eyed gaze on the new guy. So the newest arrival on his territory is trying to make a name for himself?

“Listen, kid, I know you are new here and everything, but this here is my old folk’s home. And I don’t take too kindly to young ones coming in here and trying to take it over,” Randy said as cool as the Vick’s Vapor Rub on his chest. He wasn’t going to let this mere kid get Randy Doppelganger all riled up. The silence between the two (if you don’t count their labored wheezing) gave Randy a chance to size up the new guy.

Julian Krantz stood about five foot ten, but his hobbled spine made him look more like a question mark barely passing the five foot five mark. Through his large glasses, eyes of steel blue and red veins stared. Gray stubble flecked his chin and upper lip giving his face a haggard look. Here only a week and already starting trouble. One of his hands was curled into a fist around his inhaler. The other gripped his cane. The cane was a long gray stave with a ninety-degree handle at the top. Imbedded in his wooden handle with permanent marker was, “Bad as long as my breath holds out.”

“I don’t see your name on the board over there, so how can you run this place?” Julian pointed to the black peg board were orderly duties were handed out.

“It’s an unwritten code in Morningwood. Randy Doppelganger has always had his run of the place. So if you will go back to your ‘rock and roller’ music and leave us elderly people to some rest and relaxation, then we could possibly be friends.”

Julian answered only with a clack of his dentures. A loud gasp came from one of the geriatrics who was actually taking the effort to watch the whole ordeal. Quickly an orderly ran over and patted the senior citizen on the back.

Randy laughed in Julian’s face and threw his Jazzy Electric into reverse. He was still laughing as he ran into Mr. Grutza’s oxygen tank.

“Watch where you put that, you putz!” With that final declaration Randy sped down the hall at a safe speed.

Left standing and fuming, Julian shook his head and did not admit defeat, “I’ll get even with that hooligan.”
Another elderly man shuffled over and consoled Julian by patting him on the back and with the comforting words, “Kill me.”

The cafeteria was electric with adrenaline and smelt of power, power and Ben-Gay. Yells of glee and defeat rang out as the announcer called out various combinations of letters and numbers.

“I -22!” Another huzzah let out, and the elderly folk went ahead and marked it off on their cards. Bingo night at Morningwood was rocking.

“There’s nothing better to get the old heart pumping on a Tuesday night than a rowdy game of Bingo. How about it?” Julian said to the people around him while he stared at his cards. He felt lucky tonight. He felt like the gift basket full of pureed fruit and Icy Hot were was good as his.

The night went on and Bingo games were won and lost. All those nearing the end of their lives felt the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. No amount of winning cards would be good enough, though, until the ultimate game. Fill up the entire card, and win that gift basket! It sounded simple in theory. Yes, in theory it was simple. But in the end, only Lady Luck can decide whether or not you won the Bingo game or if you crap your pants again for the 15th time that week.

Julian felt that lucky gaze of Old Lady Luck. He won big. With the final number called, he let out a loud whoop of victory and was ready to claim his prize. The other residents murmured and congratulated the new guy. Julian was garnering his praises when the whir of Randy’s chair cut him and the room off as he wheeled to the prize stand.

Randy snarled, “Hey, announcer, give that gift basket to me or I’ll sue for neglect of the elderly!” With an indifferent shrug the orderly handed over the basket and walked out of the room, leaving those crazy elderly folk to their own devices.

“Look at this, Julian! Looks like I got two things of yours that are going to be in my stomach. First your Pebbles vitamin, and now your gift basket. Today is just not your day,” Randy bellowed as he flapped his gums on pureed prunes.

“We’ll just have to see about that,” the defiance was clear in Julian’s voice. A flick of his wrist and Julian was in reverse. Julian had his own electric wheelchair now. Gasps sounded and then the rustle as the elderly looked for their inhalers.

Little beads of sweat trickled out of Randy’s furrowed brow. Then he regained his composure and laughed, “Give me a break. That’s a Rascal. How you do expect me to be afraid of a Rascal? Those pieces of plastic junk couldn’t possibly get over eleven maybe twelve miles per hour. And look at this bad boy that I am sporting. Thirteen point five miles per hour on steel ball bearings.”

Julian balked for a second. Steel ball bearings; he hadn’t counted on that. But still the nagging inside his head was loud enough of him to forget his fear, “You and me in a game of ‘Chicken’ right here, right now.”

Randy stroked the gray chest hair that poked out of his robe and laughed, “It’s on!”

After setting up a good long straightaway for the combatants, the rest of the Morningwood population lined along its edges. The two electric wheelchairs and their respective pilots lined up on opposite ends.

Trying to psyche Julian out, Randy leaned way back and pulled a wheelie around in a tight circle. Not to be out done, Julian quickly planted gray skid marks on the linoleum floor as he pulled off a perfect figure eight. The tension pushed down on all the shawl-covered shoulders of the room.

The time was now. An elderly woman walked out into the straightaway with a lace handkerchief. She raised it and quickly pulled it down. Julian quickly pushed forward on his directional trigger and Randy did the same.

As their chairs neared each other, the smell of burnt ozone and plastic floated around the room. Not more than four feet apart from each other smoke started to pour out of both their chairs. Randy’s chair lurched forward and then fell over sideways. The chair pinned him to the ground crushing his vital organs as he moaned and shook his fist. “Damn kids…” Randy died.

The room filled with old people stared at the dead body crumpled underneath the overturned electric scooter in complete silence. An orderly poked a head into the room and said, “Vitamin time!”

For now, the death of Randy Doppelganger was erased from their already short memories as all went for their dose of vitamins and a good long nap.