Oswald, aged 120, a spry wrinkled gentleman with flowing grey locks and all his own teeth, sat in his armchair. His chair was strategically placed as near as possible to the reception desk next to the Nursing Home door, he was waiting for his next victim.
Most of the residents had warned their relatives about him, nearly always too late of course, as Ossie was always in his prime position keeping his ears alert for the ring of the doorbell, and keeping a vigilant watch through the bay window for any approaching prey.
With eyes half closed he appeared to be dozing, but that was a ploy to stop the other residents seeking his attention. He would come instantly alert when the bell sounded. He was mostly harmless of course, but his habit of waylaying the other residents’ guests for most of the visiting times made him unpopular.
He’d refuse to have his armchair moved and insisted on having his meals brought to him, after all, he was paying for their so-called “Health Care for the Elderly.” Day after day, he would eavesdrop on the other guests’ conversations and would learn about their families and visitors, so that he would be well prepared when their relatives arrived. He had even written all their details in his book, which he kept well concealed under his air cushion.
Thus armed, he could change his conversations on a daily basis, always keeping his victim interested. This was the key to his strategy: “Don’t repeat yourself. Keep the conversation alive.” It seemed to work, most visitors were well prepared to chat to him when they arrived. They seemed in no hurry to leave, but that could have been something to do with Ossie’s vicelike grip on their hand. It was talking to people that gave Ossie a reason to go on living, well past his “use by” date.
