The Elder Wars

Nobody remembers who started it. Some say it began in a bingo hall. Others say it was a VA hospital basement after hours. All anyone knows is this: When you’re old enough to stop caring… you’re old enough to fight. The Organization Not a gang. Not a club. They call it The Circle. Invitations are whispered at funerals, pharmacies, and church potlucks Entry requirement: 65+ or medically declared “old as hell” Fight locations rotate: Abandoned malls Church basements Nursing homes after lights-out YMCA racquetball courts (no cameras) Weapons (House Rules) No firearms (arthritis + recoil = liability) Anything you brought from daily life is fair game: Canes (standard issue) Walkers (tanks) Dentures (projectiles / psychological warfare) Pill bottles (rattling intimidation) Compression socks (grappling hazards) Pacemakers are off-limits (even they have standards) Fighters The Widow – fights with pure rage and a slipper The Veteran – still moves like it’s ’68, knees be damned The Former Nurse – knows exactly where it hurts The Retired Boxer – hands still remember, body does not The Mean Grandpa – zero technique, 100% malice Combat Style Short rounds (someone needs to sit down) Trash talk is mandatory Winners get: Respect Pain meds First pick at the good pudding cups Losers? …well, they get ice packs and a story to tell.