“Fun House”
Fun house? Not exactly. Arranging visitors and family members to come into the senior care facility is strangely more difficult than it should be, which is why you help residents sneak in folks from the outside. This includes old friends, sex workers, disgraced family members, anyone that will slip you $20 for using the side door. This place gets away with paying low wages to under-trained staff. You shouldn’t restrain your entrepreneurial spirit.
“I Wanna Be Your Dog”
Impeccable use of Christmas bells in this song. You love it so much, you push all the sofas to the side when this song comes on. Go on, get the tambourines out. You’re pretty sure there’s a set of cymbals around here somewhere. Hand out pots and pans with wooden spoons, anything that makes noise. Martha in room 227 is feeling herself on the dance floor, gold bracelets rattling as she pumps her fists.
“Search and Destroy”
Now you’re just playing the fucking hits. Even the facility head director can’t fault you for playing this A+ track. Chuck the 90-year-old recluse is playing a very slow air guitar, while Pete the ex-pharmacist is head-banging very carefully. This jam is speaking to the people. Also, you may have mixed up the meds. Worry about that later.
“Little Doll”
The final tune from their first album is a smooth way to keep the good times rolling. Go ahead, light up a loosie inside. Don’t worry about anyone with emphysema, just open a window or two. When local residents begin asking you for a spare cig, throw your extra Marlboro pack into the sunroom. You’ll cause a mini-riot amongst baby boomers that haven’t touched tobacco since Reagan was in office.
“Tight Pants”
Did anyone else bring leather pants? Don’t worry, you brought spares. Throw them out to anyone who wants a pair, along with tapioca packs and peach cobbler cups. The ambiance is pure anarchy. Ethel in 458 seems to have her own rhinestone rockabilly outfit, dancing with grace and glittering up on the plastic-covered sofa. That does seem dangerous though, someone should get her down.
“My Idea of Fun”
Provocative lyrics have never stopped you from blasting your favorite music here at Sunny Horizons. It’s worrying that the upper management is banging against the door, demanding that you turn the volume down. Too bad you can’t hear a word they say. At this point, maybe find an escape route because you might not have a job here anymore.
“1970”
Ask everyone what their favorite year was, the last time freedom flowed through their veins. Let the saxophone bathe these beige-carpeted halls. Frames begin to fall. Teddy bear portraits, Anne Geddes baby photos, shitty landscapes and Thomas Kinkade prints are no match for the discordant soundscape created here. Soon you’ll have wheelchair drag-racing and flaming walkers thrown from the windows. A geriatric riot is still a riot.
“No Fun”
The fire department is cutting our power? No fun, indeed! Good thing you have a backup generator and flashlights. Your Bluetooth speaker has a blast range that will fill the hall. Time for strobe lights. You’ve created a club scene in here, as staff desperately tries to access your floor. Chuck from room 472 is holding back the door while serving shots of cognac.
“I Need Somebody”
The driving blues backbeat will bring the party to a higher mellow plane. At this point, joints are being lit from old issues of AARP Magazine. Congratulations, you’ve completely changed the energy at this senior center. It’s like a brand new space. Now imitate some of Iggy Pop’s antics. Roll around in broken glass from the smashed candy bowls. Smear peanut butter from the pantry across your chest. Jump into a crowd of octogenarians. Don’t worry about them not catching you, there’s an X-Ray machine downstairs to check any injuries sustained on this rock odyssey.
“Cock in My Pocket”
Urge residents to write the title of this song on the hallway walls in Sharpie. Look at the nation of anarchy you have unleashed. Chuck has his suspenders on fire, swinging them around. Rose and Nancy are moshing in the pit. Roland in room 342 has even joined the fracas, showing off his old sailor tattoos and fighting anyone who looks at him. Ignore the police tackling you, or the senior director offering dismissal forms. Just know that this senior center will never be the same. The spirit of early punk lives on at Sunny Horizons Senior Assisted Living.
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