I sat back and stared in consternation at my neighbor; I couldn’t figure out if she was cheating or going senile.  Edith was a spry 80-year-old with dangling faux diamond earrings, a screaming yellow Hawaiian shirt and carefully coifed white hair.  She was slowly and deliberately rolling the dice.  “One,” she called out.  “Two.” 

I glanced at the dice incredulously.  She was clearly cheating.  You had to watch out for the octogenarians at the “Y,” they were highly competitive.  Harold, my current partner, was a case in point. He was wearing a shocking pink and purple Hawaiian shirt, puke green shorts, knee socks and sandals.  To top it all off he wore a straw hat at a jaunty angle, a hibiscus flower tucked in the brim.  He obviously had every intention of winning first prize in the costume contest.  I mentally sighed in relief; it could have been worse.  Last month’s theme had been Tarzan and Jane and I could just picture Harold in a loincloth with his knobby knees sticking out.

Edith rolled again.  “Four,” she yodeled.  She glanced over at the score pad under my hand, and then at my face.  “What’s wrong, got a cramp?” she asked in her raspy, pack-a-day voice.  “Thought you were keeping score!” 

I was on the horns of a dilemma.  Did I call the old bat on her B.S., or keep the peace and mark down her fictitious points?  Grudgingly, I decided to split the difference and gave her two points.  It was going to be a long night. 

Brrrrinnnngggg!  The bell went off at the head table.  Time to tally up our points and see which team had won the round.  I added them up then pointed to Edith and her partner, Sally.  “You two are the losers with eleven points,” I said gaily.  “And we,” pointing to myself and Harold, “are the winners with nineteen points.” 

Edith scowled suspiciously at the score pad. “Are you sure we didn’t have more points?” she asked, fixing me in place with her bright blue death rays.  I shrugged; she grudgingly dropped her gaze and pushed her chair back.  “I’m going to get a drink,” she growled and clumped off in her size nines.  Harold and I smiled at each other and prepared to move on to the next table. 

My heart sank when I saw my next partner.  It was Leo Marsden.  Leo was ninety-five if he was a day, and completely deaf.  He wore a large pink hearing aid but it did nothing for him; he had it cranked up so that it constantly emitted a shrill squeal to the detriment of the people around him. 

“Hey Leo,” I screamed.  “How ya doin’?”  I clapped him on the shoulder to warn him I was there then leaned in to accept his kiss on my cheek. 

Leo beamed happily.  “Well hello young lady, don’t you look fetching this evening?”  He peered nearsightedly at me over his enormous glasses.  I’d forgotten what a doll Leo was.

“You like?”  I twirled and preened.  My muumuu was a vision in pinks, and over it I wore a lei made out of dried flowers.  Harold was not the only one aiming for the costume prize.  Leo whistled through his dentures. 

I pulled out my chair and sat down, pulling the score pad towards me.  “Anyone mind if I keep score?”  I glanced towards the players to my left and my right.  They nodded “go ahead.”  Or were those Parkinson nods?  Hard to tell the difference sometimes. 

The bell rang again, signaling the beginning of the next round.  “We’re on twos,” I shouted merrily and rolled the dice with a swift flip of my wrist.  “Nothing.”  I pushed them towards my left and prodded Anna out of her nap.  “Your turn, Anna.”

“Whhh … what?”  Anna snapped out of her somnolent doze.  Her gnarled, arthritic hand snaked out across the table and snatched up the dice like a turtle after a particularly tasty fly.  She let ‘er rip, and rolled three twos.  “Bunko!” she screamed with glee.  “Bunkooooo!”  She waved her arms around her head, trying to get the attention of Nora, the games coordinator.  Anna loved wearing the Bunko hat.  In keeping with the theme, tonight’s hat was a gay conglomeration of green and yellow feathers with the caricature of a parrot’s face sticking out, acting as the brim.  Anna gleamed at it covetously as it came towards her, borne ceremoniously in Nora’s arms.  Once it was placed on her brow, Anna’s demeanor changed to that of a queen and we, her loyal subjects.  I grinned and bore it silently; she really was an old dear.

Towards the end of the evening, the players tallied up their points and gathered with their canes and walkers near the prize table to collect their winnings.  To my chagrin, Harold won the costume prize.  Oh well.  Better luck next month; I hear the theme is Gone with the Wind.  I do a mean Scarlet O’Hara.

Just then, Nora flickered the lights to get our attention.  We all stopped and looked towards the front of the room as Lucille and George wheeled in a cart bearing a large cake.  There were dozens of candles on the cake; it looked like a fire hazard.  Everybody clapped and sighed.  I blinked in puzzlement; whose birthday was it this month?  My mouth dropped open in shock as the cart came to a stop in front of me.  “My… my birthday?”  I stuttered in disbelief.  “Is it my birthday already?” 

The whole room burst into song.  “Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birrrrtthhhdayyyy, dear Marie, happy birthday to you!”  One old geezer in the back cracked the age old joke:  “And many mooooooreeee!”  All my friends laughed and applauded.