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One time I was out in my front yard, gardening up a storm, when my then elderly next door neighbor Mrs. B. who is now deceased opened her window to ask if I could help her with putting the cover back onto her doorbell.

Seeing as we lived in mirrored places, I knew exactly what cover she was referring to.  It’s the cover that hides all of the mechanical parts of the door bell, and it’s near the ceiling just above the entryway to the kitchen. 

Let me not forget to mention that it is near impossible for the cover to fall off on its own - only an earthquake could possibly get the cover off naturally - she must have pulled the cover off herself.

Despite my finding it odd that the cover fell off, I told her that I could go over to her place and put the cover back up when I finished in the garden - or roughly, in a half an hour.

She agreed that this was fine, and after I washed up I went on over and rang her doorbell.

She answered the door holding the cover to the doorbell, going on about how it “just fell off” and how “it’s too high up to reach on my own”.

As I walked into the living room I greeted her husband who was busy battling Parkinson’s, and made my way to the kitchen - Mrs. B in toe.

Since the doorbell was too high for even my reach, I asked and borrowed a kitchen chair.  Then while stepping down from the kitchen chair I found myself way too close to Mrs. B.

She had all of a sudden taken a step into what normal people would consider to be personal space, and thanked me for helping her.

Then she said words that will make me shiver until the day I die, which were…

“Ya know, Eric, if I were only ten years younger, I would go for you.”

I stood there half confused, and half grossed out.  “Only ten years?  You’re at least 82 years old.”  I thought.

“I’m serious.  I really would.”  Mrs. B. went on to say.

Eww.  Eww.  Eww. 

Now I was really grossed out from my visualizing Mrs. B. pleasure herself while she imagined herself to be a 72 year old version of herself… seducing me.  I wanted to run, but didn’t.

“Oooooo-kay.  Well, I should get going.”  I replied.

I walked back into the living room where Mr. B. was sitting watching television, and said goodbye to him with what I can only assume to be thousand yard stare on my face.