D.A.D

“No joke, nipples like mushrooms. So I looked her right in the eye and said, ‘the name is Bond, James Bond.’ And she said, ‘I know who you are Mr. Bond, my name is Shebe Moisty.’
Shebe Moisty! Can you fucking believe it? So I said, ‘tell me Shebe, are you a cold-blooded or a hot-blooded woman?’ That threw her. So she pouted and said, ‘how does one go about telling?’ And you are not going to believe this, I said, ‘personally, I like to stick my toe in the deep end.’ And I followed that up straight away for a double whammy, ‘if the temperature is agreeable, perhaps I’ll go for a few laps.’
The Asian orderly gently removed the old telephone receiver from Bond’s matchstick fingers. “Time for a bath Mr. Bond.” James looked away, out the window where the old hickory tree was flaking and whittling to dust. “I’m talking on the phone,” he grumbled.
“Sure Mr. Bond, and you can go back to talking after you’ve had a bath.”
“That old tree…” James trailed off, his knuckles whitened.
“All things that live die, Mr. Bond.”
“Do you expect me to die?”
The orderly gathered the rags of James up in his arms.
“No Mr. Bond, after your bath, I expect you to talk.”