Saints of Youth

My eyes had widened, and I could tell the Saint had noticed what had happened.
I couldn't help but feel a bit light headed, trying to make logical sense of what was happening. So I was able to make my case, but I am now shit out of luck.

"I see the dilemma, well I can prepose another option I guess."

I was perched now on my seat, whatever he wanted me to do I was willing; because being eaten wasn't really on my bucket list.

"Prove to me that aging is something to be of value, and that marking your body is really beautiful." He had cringed and hugged his arms together at the thought. "If you can truly sway my belief then congrats human, you win." With wild gestures and flipping hair out of his face he then looked down at his cloak he had worn for the past couple days.

"I suppose I don't need to look menacing any more now do I?" And he snapped his fingers and then an electric blue leather jacket appeared. He had a pair of sunglasses on his head and a hand on his hip that jutted out on the side.

"Well? Don't you want to get a head start?"

"Uh, okay."

The fuck if I knew how to make some random person appreciate old people. Then the best thing popped into my head. My grandfather was playing with his old band today, and what better way then to introduce the Saint to the oldest dude I know?

Walking around town with the Saint was one hell of a fucking job. He wanted to stop at every make up store, every spa. I could see it in his eyes, the way he smiled when a clerk would rave about some "miracle" product that he really believed this stuff.

A billboard for plastic surgery made him scream what could only be described as choking a rat and he had gasped "Oh wow, the only things the humans have done correct."

"Look, okay we're almost at my grandfather's house can I at least ask you to be respectful? Is polietness a sin on your planet?"

His gloved fingers poked me in my ribs. "I'll have you know that it's not your grandfather that needs to worry about my behavior, it's you."

I ignored the chills seeping deep into my spine and walked up the steps to the little apartment complex. I could smell supper being cooked and I hope I wasn't interupting them, my grandpa really liked to get "in the zone" before a concert.

And that usually meant eat a ton of Grandma Lily's homemade pizza. Gerard had been getting impatient, tapping his toe on the concrete, applying beauty products over and over again, asking me if they looked good.

Then he answered, and he never looked better then when he was about to play. What was left of his graying hair had been slicked back, he had put on a nice white suit, and even shaved his mustache.

But then, just when I thought I was in the know finally I'm thrown this curveball.

"Oh Gerard my boy, how have you been?"