Mojo, Our Lady of the Colourful Metaphors

It has been years since I saw Mojo. I stopped going to her because of the smoking. Mojo is another chain-smoker who has a nicotine fit if more than 10 minutes go by without a puff. Trust me, it is never more than 9. I had forgotten she was a smoker or I would likely have said no to her but once in it is rather too late. I carry emergency puffers for this exact reason.

Mojo was as always. She goes for the shock value. You walk in and see an 89 year old woman in a muumuu. She gives you a lovely smile. You ask her what she is up to and she tells you she is off to "take a crap."

Mojo had a career as a Nurse back in the days when they did those bad lifts. Her back is very painful, and her gait is unsteady. She lives alone, in a very nice ocean view apartment with rather minimal help to stay independent. She has kids and grandkids and great-grandkids but noone ever comes by. One of her sons calls every now and then. She thinks he is just checking to make sure she didn't die and leave it all to someone else. She has given up on her family completely and spends most of her time with her hired help. Her best friend is her cleaning lady. Naturally the Son(s) do not approve but also do not visit.

"Haha, he doesn't know but I did get a big inheritance. And I spent it all. I planned out ten years of trips and fun and I spent it all. And he can have what's left. Sweet bugger all. The fucker."

Today, Mojo told me that recently there have been alot of stories in the news about teenagers assaulting old ladies. She now keeps her doors and windows locked at all times. She made it to 40 minutes and then she said she HAD to have a ciggie so I had to go.

Mojo walked me down the hall to lock the door behind me.

"Isn't it sad that I have to do this? I worry about someone breaking in and stealing my stuff. Or raping me. Actually I wouldn't mind a good rape but it would have to be consensual."

Another one off.