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Stray strands of hair came out in balls. He was shedding a lot more recently— and his toupee wasn’t doing much to hide it. Mr. Boss thought that that the wig would give off the cool, bicolor effect that some oldies have on their hair when they’re aging. Like Stan Lee with his gray temples and white scalp! That’s… the only celebrity he can think of as of now with that phenotype, but there are many others he could name and doesn’t have the focus to remember.
Mr. Boss used to have that authentic look when he was in his late 20s. All things considered, it was pretty weird that his hair was already graying five years after graduating from college; but he was one of the more anxious, drugged up kids, which had a part in hair-whitening— he supposed.
Mr. Boss had been taking his recent years pretty well. He took daily runs, gotten plenty of exercise, and even started a Mediterranean diet. He used to hate seafood, but if he wanted to get any further in life he had to transition into eating primarily fish and crab rather than beautiful, delicious, red meats.
Lamb ribs were one of his favorite childhood foods; a childhood that was farther away than he thought. Was he eating more junk food than usual recently? He should cut back on that, no matter how amazing it was.
Mr. Boss silently decided he wouldn’t shave today, as his chin looked just fine. In his prime, he was a lady’s man with a charming stubble. Unintentionally, so. He was considered quite attractive by societal standards, with his stocky jawline, strong facial frame and all. In the mirror, he saw echoes of his past life pasted onto polaroids then crinkled and dented. At least it was pretty fun to play with the loose skin on his throat, but that’s pretty much the only upside.
Being old wasn’t the best and it would only get worse with the march of time.
Mr. Boss never realized how throughout most of his life, he’s looked at elderly, disabled, and often senile people and never fully registered that would be him one day. He really didn’t think he would make it past twenty-three.
But being old could have been worse. He inwardly thanked his younger self for taking football in highschool— and his slightly less younger self for going on hikes and marathons. Mr. Boss certainly felt 30, with the occasional arthritis.
It was so odd telling people he was 59 years old, because he knew that once he turned 60, people would only then start to be surprised. People don’t gape at ‘59’, but they do at ‘60’. It’s like those trick prices with “-.99” at the end to make the bare eye think it’s less than it actually is.
On another topic, with his limited time on earth, It was odd how he hadn’t found love yet. He probably was the baby daddy to a lot of different women, but flings never quite felt like a near equivalent to love. It was very hard to find love, especially as a crusty old senior citizen. Mr. Boss could try to find an elderly woman, but his doctor predicted he would live up to a whopping 118 years old with life support, so she’d probably die before him. Mr. Boss also could not try with younger adult women either, for a multitude of reasons.
- Mr. Boss may die before them, that is, if his doctor is incorrect.
- Younger women looking for rich older men only do so if it’s to obtain a sugar daddy.
- People, in general, would think he’s a creep.
Maybe he just has to go for middle-aged women… or men… or immortals… those are possibilities. He’s managed to secure a relationship and get happily married with the daughter of Satan. Then again, it turned out she was actually trying to leech off his life force and kill him so that her father could inherit Smiling Friends Inc. It kinda sucked, but it’s not the worst thing he’s went through in a relationship. At least he owns a fourth of Hell now!
Mr. Boss snapped out of his train of thought and found himself before the vanity yet again. He had an entire personal bathroom installed in his office, just for him! At that point, he quite literally lived at the place he worked. He hummed while he brushed his teeth, deodorized, and took his plethora of brightly-colored pills.
He always had hopes of meeting the love of his life and he would come up with such scenarios since he was a tot.
Not yet. Not even after fifty-nine years.
Fucking shit, he was old— and single.
The human fantasized, maybe at the last moment, he would hop onto a public bus and meet a nice, similarly aged woman there who would heartily laugh with him. She would be a woman who matched his freak; someone who’d love him despite his flaws; someone who didn’t marry him just to suck his soul out.
She would probably be non-human and red. Like Brittney.
The CEO banged his head with his fist and groaned. He shouldn’t be thinking about his pathetic love life, he should be thinking about his workers and clients! They need him! He is the boss.