I joined the growing group that huddled under the TV. Everyone was looking up and reminded me of baby birds ready for mamma to feed'em all worms.
The commercial played classical music while Dr. Kilt blabbed.
“Are you old?” he asked. “Are you lame? Does life feel dead to you? Is there no excitement in your existence? Well, have I got the answer to remedy your boredom.”
An image of a white and red pill filled the screen.
“Get Kilt!” the doctor said.
The scene changed, and then I saw all these old people dancing in a hip hop club called Pannies – and they were really moving. It was amazing. Many danced like robots and were challenging the youth. It looked like a grand old time. They were all smiles. It was unbelievable. Was I looking at young people wearing masks of old people? Was it all real? The scene changed to an old woman at a park, spinning a basketball on her finger. Jackson pushed by me.
“It's Oja! She's on TV!”
I wondered, so THIS is what Dr. Kilt did to her. And then I wondered darker thoughts. Did they force the pill on her? Was she a test rat?
“First I was lost,” Oja said, “but now I am found. Yippie!”
She was all over the place – dunking basketballs, jumping over hurdles and lifting weights and hitting home runs and arm wrestling a bald man that had so much muscle. She SLAMMED his arm down and broke the table in two and won the match. The man cried out in pain and held his elbow and ran off, weeping. Oja jumped up, eyes to Heaven, mouth drooling.
“I feel so young!” she said and punched through a wall. She pulled out a glass mug of piss-colored beer and drank. “I am invigorated!” she yelled. As youthful as she seemed...I found it odd that her voice was still old and crackly. The scene switched to a dojo, and, dressed in a karate uniform, Oja flipped over a young Asian man dressed in everyday clothing. Everyone around me clapped and cheered. At the end of the commercial, Oja gave the camera the thumbs up.
“Get Kilt!” she said.
And then she shrieked something unintelligible and dove her forehead through a stack of bricks. Burning bricks. She brought her hands together in prayer and bowed to the camera. There was no blood. Everyone clapped and hollered and stomped their feet, thanking Jesus and Buddha. They got on their cell phones and begged their kids to buy them this Kilt-thing. Some of the old people flat out demanded their kids buy them the energy pill. People paced all around the place with their phones glued to their greasy ears, many crying, pleading, mumbling. Some things I overheard: “You don't love me anymore!” “I hate you!” “I love you!” “Screw you!” “Thank you!” “You owe me!” “You came out of me!” and “I'll pay you back later.” Hershey Lilo, a black woman in a white wheelchair, just sat there in a trance, eyes fixed to the screen.
A nurse tried to snap her out of it – snapped her fingers in front of her face – but it was no good. The nurse even touched the old woman's eyeball. Nothing happened. Hershey wasn't smiling, but she did start nodding over and over again.
Someone in the room was playing the piccolo. People danced. All were merry.
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