We’re looking for someone to take over a temporary lease while our bedmate goes on a once-in-a-lifetime visit to a chocolate factory.
We’re three grandparents who sleep in the same bed in the middle of our daughter/daughter-in-law’s one-bedroom efficiency. We spend all our time in bed, knitting, sleeping, eating soup, watching TV, and raising our sad malnourished grandson. Until recently, none of us had left the bed in over twenty years, but a candy-related miracle has resulted in a sudden vacancy.
Is this a sex thing?
No. There was a lot of misunderstanding about our first post, so we had to take it down. To clarify, we are not interested in couples; we’re looking for a single, platonic bedmate. Until yesterday, none of us had so much as stretched our legs in several decades, so you can imagine we don’t get up to much sexually. It makes for a pretty symbiotic relationship, so we’d rather not ruin that by adding sexual tension to the bed. Also, our muscles have atrophied to the point of disuse.
If you want to have a sexual partner over, please feel free, but keep all the activity confined to your quadrant of the bed. We do not tolerate quadrant spillover.
How big is the bed?
It is a normal-sized bed. The only reason we can all fit in it is because we’re tiny and frail. Ideally, we’re looking for someone as tiny and frail as we are.
How long is the lease?
This is a very short-term sublet. Probably only a day or two, maybe even less. We’re sorry we can’t be more specific about the length—the chocolate factory tour is very eccentric, and we don’t know how long it will last. Could be a great place to stay if you’re in town on business, though.
How do you go to the bathroom?
We have a highly complex system we’ve developed over many years that we’d rather not get into. If you can get out of bed easily, we suggest you use the toilet bucket next to our grandson’s bed. We call it the Buckets’ Bucket. It’s a joke you’ll get later.
Why are you renting this space?
Good question. While we’re lucky enough to be able to afford this four-quadrant/ one-bucket glorified shack, we’re really scraping by. Our grandson just spent his last dollar on chocolate, and our daughter works two shifts a day stirring rags in an alley. And since there was some confusion in the previous post about this, “stirring rags in an alley” is not a euphemism for prostitution.
Now that this space has opened up, we’re hoping to supplement our rag-stirring income with a bit of extra cash so we can buy a loaf of bread.
We don’t own a telephone, so we’ll be taking all applications in person. We’re located in the heart of the city’s Sad District, just next to Slugworth’s abandoned candy mill.
Serious inquiries only.
George, Georgina, and Josephine