A Zarathustrian Prediction

I thought all you young fellers out there should have a good peek at your possible path through your future. I can assure you the accuracy of my predictive powers in this regard.  I am now of an advanced age and have traveled the same path to acquire first hand knowledge of the journey and am nearing the finishing chapters myself. To further reassure you of the accuracy of my predictions, I have confirmed each by consulting my Crystal Ball. It’s a beauty. I found it at a garage sale in Whalley I think I’ve traced it all the way back to Merlin and it works like a damn

Read on for enlightenment of your future life and its many benefits

To Honor the Memory of My Master

 

I present

Man's Age, as Determined by a Trip to Home Depot

The Shape of Things to Come

You are in the middle of a few projects at your home: putting in a
 new fence, painting the basement walls, putting in a new garden. You
 are hot and sweaty, covered in dust, lawn clippings, dirt and paint.
 You have your old work clothes on. You know the outfit -- shorts with
 the hole in the crotch, old T-shirt with a stain from who-knows-what,
 and an old pair of tennis shoes.

 Right in the middle of these projects you realize you need to run to
 Home Depot for supplies.

Depending on your age you might do the following:

 *In your 20s:*

 Stop what you are doing. Shave, take a shower, blow dry your hair,
 brush your teeth, floss and put on clean clothes.
 Check yourself in the mirror and flex. Add a dab of your favorite
 cologne because, you never know, you just might meet some hot chick
 while standing in the checkout line.

 And yes, you went to school with the pretty girl running the register.

*In your 30s:*

 Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt.

Change your  shoes.
 You married the hot chick so no need for much else.
 Wash your hands and comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror.
 Still got it.
 Add a shot of your favorite cologne to cover the smell.

 The cute girl running the register is the kid sister to someone you
 went to school with.

 *In your 40s:*

 Stop what you are doing. Put on a sweatshirt that is long enough to
 cover the hole in the crotch of your shorts.
 Put on different shoes and a hat. Wash your hands.

Your bottle of Brute is almost empty, so don't waste any of it on a trip to

Home  Depot.
 Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing.

 The hot young thing running the register is your daughter's age and
 you feel weird about thinking she's spicy.

 *In your 50s:*

 Stop what you are doing. Put on a hat. Wipe the dirt off your hands
 onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don't want to get dog crap
 in your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and swear not to
wear that shirt anymore because it makes you look fat.

 The cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and
 you think you still have it. Then you remember -- the hat you have on
 is from Bubba's Bait & Beer Bar and it says, 'I Got Worms '

 *In your 60s:*

 Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat any more. Hose the dog
 crap off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your
 50s. You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs outta

 the hole in  your pants.

 The girl running the register may be cute but you don't have your
 glasses on, so you're not sure.

 *In your 70s:*

 Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Home Depot until the drug
 store has your prescriptions ready too.

Don't even notice the dog crap on your shoes.

 The young thing at the register stares at you

and

you realize your  balls are hanging out the hole in your crotch.

 *In your 80s:*

 Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now you

remember you need to go to Home Depot. Go to Wal-Mart instead.
 You went to school with the old lady greeter.

 You wander around trying to remember what you are looking for. Then
 you fart out loud and think someone called your name.

 *In your 90s & beyond:*

 What's a home deep hoe? Something for my garden?

Where am I? Who am I?  Why am I reading this?
 Did I send it? Did you?

Who farted?